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C. G. JUNG 
SPEAKING 



Interviews and Encounters 



EDITED BY 



WILLIAM McGUIRE and 
R. F. C. HULL 



BOLLINGEN SERIES 



PRINCETON UNIVERSITY PRESS 



C. G. JUNG 
SPEAKING 

Interviews ana Encounters 

EDITED BY 

WILLIAM McGUIRE and 
R. F. C. HULL 




BOLLINGEN SERIES XCVII 
PRINCETON UNIVERSITY PRESS 



jtniela Jaffe 



Copyright © 1977 by Princeton University Press 
Published by Princeton University Press, Princeton, New Jersey 

lcc 77-71985 isbn 0-691-09894-8 
isbn o-69i-o187i-5 (pbk.) 

this is the ninety-seventh in a series of books 

sponsored by bollingen foundation t 

"Doctor Jung: A Portrait in 1931," from Harper's, May 
1931, copyright © 1931 by Harper's Magazine; copy- 
right © renewed 1958 by Harper's Magazine. "The 
2,000,000- Year-Old Man," from The New York. Times, 
Oct. 4, 1936, © 1936 by The New York Times Com- 
pany, and renewed 1964; reprinted by permission. "On 
the Frontiers of Knowledge" (the interview by Georges 
Duplain), from Spring, i960, copyright i960 by the 
Analytical Psychology Club of New York, Inc. The two 
"Talks with Miguel Serrano," from C. G. lung and 
Hermann Hesse, copyright © 1966 by Miguel Serrano. 
Albert Oeri's memoir and "A Talk with Students at the 
Institute," from Spring, 1970, copyright © 1970 by the 
Analytical Psychology Club of New York, Inc. "Is An- 
alytical Psychology a Religion?" from Spring, 1972, 
copyright © 1972 by the Analytical Psychology Club of 
New York, Inc. "The Hell of Initiation," from J. P. 
Hodin, Modern Art and the Modern Mind, copyright © 
1972 by the Press of Case Western Reserve University. 
Passages from Esther Harding's notebooks, from Quad- 
rant, winter 1975, copyright © 1975 by C. G. Jung 
Foundation for Analytical Psychology, Inc. "The Houston 
Films," from Jung on Elementary Psychology, copyright 
© 1964 and 1976 by Richard I. Evans. 

Third paperback printing, 1993 

Princeton University Press books are printed on acid-free paper 

and meet the guidelines for permanence and durability of the 

Committee on Production Guidelines for Book Longevity of the 

Council on Library Resources 

Printed in the United States of America 



TABLE OF CONTENTS 



<MMHMH'I I M IIII MM 



Preface xi 

Acknowledgments xix 

Bibliographical Note xxii 

Some Youthful Memories 3 

By Albert Oeri. Die kulturelle Bedeutung der \omplexen 
Psychologie (Berlin, 1935) and Spring (Zurich and 
New York), 1970. 

America Facing Its Most Tragic Moment ii 

New Yor% Times, Sept. 19, 1912. 

From Esther Harding's Notebooks : 1922, 1925 25 

Quadrant (New York), Winter 1975. 

"Doctor Jung, I Presume" [1925] 32 

By Francis Daniel Hislop. Corona: The Journal of Her 
Majesty's Overseas Service (London) , June i960. 

Three Versions of a Press Conference in Vienna 38 

Neue Freie Presse, Neues Wiener Journal, and Volfe- 
zeitung, all Feb. 21, 1928. 

Americans Must Say "No" 47 

By Whit Burnett. New York Sun, Feb. 27, 1931. 

Doctor Jung: A Portrait in 1931 50 

Extracts from "Doctor Jung: A Portrait," by Elizabeth 
Shepley Sergeant, Harper's (New York), May 1931. 

Everyone Has Two Souls 57 

Neues Wiener Journal, Nov. 9, 1932. 

An Interview on Radio Berlin 59 

Conducted by Adolf Weizsacker, June 26, 1933. 

Does the World Stand on the Verge of Spiritual 
Rebirth? 67 

Hearst's International-Cosmopolitan (New York), April 

1934- 



Contents 



Contents 



From Charles Baudouin's Journal: 1934 
Baudouin, L'Oeuvre de Jung (Paris, 1963). 

Victoria Ocampo Pays Jung a Visit [1934] 
By Victoria Ocampo. La Nation (Buenos Aires), March 
5, 1936. 

Man's Immortal Mind 

Observer (London), Oct. 6, 1935. 

The 2,000,000- Year-Old Man 
New York, Times, Oct. 4, 1936. 

The Psychology of Dictatorship 
Observer (London), Oct. 18, 1936. 

Is Analytical Psychology a Religion? [1936] 
Spring (Zurich and New York), 1972. 

Questions and Answers at the Oxford Congress, 

J 93 8 
From the transcript of a stenogram by Derek Kitchin. 

Diagnosing the Dictators [1938] 
By H. R. Knickerbocker. Hearst's International-Cosmo- 
politan (New York), January 1939. 

Jung Diagnoses the Dictators 
By Howard L. Philp. The Psychologist (London), May 
1939- 

A Wartime Interview 

By Pierre Courthion. La Tribune de Geneve, June 19, 
1942. 

From Charles Baudouin's Journal: 1945 
Baudouin, L'Oeuvre de Jung (Paris, 1963). 

The Post- War Psychic Problems of the Germans 
By Peter Schmid. Die Weltwocke (Zurich), May 11, 1945. 

Four "Contacts with Jung" 
A. I. Allenby (i945ff.), Kenneth Lambert (1939, 1950), 
Renee Brand (1955), Elizabeth Osterman (1958). From 
Contact with Jung (London, 1966), edited by Michael 
Fordham. 

On Creative Achievement 
By Emil A. Fischer. Schopferische Leistung (Thalwil, 
1946). 

vi 



76 
82 

85 



9 1 

94 

99 
"5 

136 

141 

146 
149 
156 

164 



A Visit from a Young Quaker [1947] 
By George H. Hogle. In Memoriam, Carl Gustav Jung 
(privately issued by the Analytical Psychology Club of 
San Francisco, 1961) ; and a letter, June 29, 1976. 

Doctors on Holiday on the Rigi 
By Eleanor Bertine. Report from Zurich, (New York, 1948). 

From Esther Harding's Notebooks : 1948 
Quadrant (New York), Winter 1975. 

A Visit from Moravia 
By Alberto Moravia. L'Europeo (Milan), Dec. 5, 1948. 

From Charles Baudouin's Journal: 1949 
Baudouin, L'Oeuvre de Jung (Paris, 1963). 

On the Attack in the "Saturday Review of 

Literature" 

By Carol Baumann. Bulletin of the Analytical Psychology 
Club of New Yor\, December 1949. 

Man and His Environment [1950] 
By Hans Carol. Neue Zurcher Zeitung, June 2, 1963. 

Comments on a Doctoral Thesis 
By Ximena de Angulo. From an unpublished report, 1952. 

The Hell of Initiation [1952] 

By J. P. Hodin. From his Modern Art and the Modern Mind 
(Cleveland, 1972). 

Eliade's Interview for "Combat" 
By Mircea Eliade. Combat (Paris), Oct. 9, 1952. 

From Charles Baudouin's Journal: 1954 
Baudouin, L'Oeuvre de Jung (Paris, 1963). 

Horns Blowing, Bells Ringing 

By Claire Myers Owens. New Yor\ Herald Tribune (Paris), 
Aug. 12, 1954. 

The World of James Joyce [1954] 
By Patricia Hutchins. James Joyce's World (London, 1957). 

Men, Women, and God 
By Frederick Sands. Daily Mail (London), April 25-29, 1955. 



vu 



168 

171 
180 
186 
190 

192 

201 
205 
219 

225 

2 35 

237 

239 

244 



Contents 



The Stephen Black Interviews 252 

BBC radio and television, July 24, 1955. 

An Eightieth Birthday Interview 268 

By Michael Schabad. National-Zeitung (Basel), July 26, 1955. 

The Therapy of Music [1956] 273 

By Margaret Tilly. In Memoriam, Carl Gustav Jung 
(privately issued by the Analytical Psychology Club 
of San Francisco, 1961). 

The Houston Films [1957] 276 

With Richard I. Evans. Jung on Elementary Psychology 
(New York, 1976). 

Jung and the Christmas Tree 353 

By Georg Gerster. Die Weltwoche (Zurich), Dec. 25, 1957. 

A Talk with Students at the Institute [May 1958] 359 
Recorded' by Marian Bayes. Spring, 1970. 

From Charles Baudouin's Journal: 1958 365 

Baudouin, L'Oeuvre de Jung (Paris, 1958). 

From Esther Harding's Notebooks : 1958 367 

Quadrant (New York), Winter 1975. 

At the Basel Psychology Club [1958] 370 

From the transcript of a tape recording. 

Talks with Miguel Serrano: 1959 392 

From Serrano, C. G. Jung and Hermann Hesse 
(London and New York, 1966). 

A Visit from Lindbergh [1959] 406 

By Charles A, Lindbergh. From a letter to Helen Wolff, 
Dec. 11, 1968. 

On the Frontiers of Knowledge 410 

By Georges Duplain. Gazette de Lausanne, September 4-8, 
1959. With a preface by C. G. Jung. 

The "Face to Face" Interview 424 

With John Freeman, BBC television, Oct. 22, 1959. 

From Esther Harding's Notebooks : i960 440 

Quadrant (New York), Winter 1975. 



Vlll 



Contents 



The Art of Living 
By Gordon Young. Sunday Times (London), July 17, i960. 

An Eighty-Fifth Birthday Interview for 

Switzerland 

With Georg Gerster, Radio Beromiinster (Switzerland), 
July 26, i960. 

Talks with Miguel Serrano: 1961 
From Serrano, C. G. Jung and Hermann Hesse 
(London and New York, 1966). 

Index 



443 



453 



462 



47 1 



IX 



PREFACE 



Jung's psychological type, according to his own statement 
late in life, was that of the intuitive-intellectual introvert. 
This category of personality 1;eems scarcely proper to ah 
articulate, expressive, humorous, friendly man, ready, even 
eager, to talk not only with countless friends and acquaint- 
ances, but with visitors who were total strangers, sometimes 
telephoning him without introduction, and dozens of jour- 
nalists, ranging widely in national origin and professional 
competence, bringing a barrage of questions ranging from 
the obvious to the learned. Would an intuitive-intellectual 
introvert sit for many hours under bright, uncomfortably 
hot lights while cameras filmed a lengthy interview dwell- 
ing on nearly every aspect of his psychological system and 
intellectual development? Jung did, and in his eighties. 
And, beyond all these callers and interviewers, Jung's pro- 
fessional role was talking as well as listening, and his hours 
spent in analysis and consultation, his seminars and lectures, 
involved him in far more of the behavior we call outgoing 
than most self-styled, or so-called, extroverts go in for. 

This collection of interviews and encounters, selected 
from a large number of such documents, includes several 
kinds of testimony from and about Jung. The "purest," 
jiearest to faithful records of Jung's spoken wofds~are the 
transcripts from electronic recordings of the_.jadipj_.fjlm, 
and television Interviews conducted by Wejzsackeiy Black, 
Evans, Freeman, and Gerster, .and the tape recording of 
Jung'staUc to the Basel Psychology^ Club in 1958. 1 With 

1 The "oral history" era barely overlapped with Jung's lifetime. 
Some of his talks to groups in the last years of his life were taped, 
but there was only one interview with tape-recorder, so far as is 
known: by K. R. Eissler, for the Sigmund Freud Archives. The 
transcript is deposited in the Library of Congress, Washington, D. C, 
under resmaiojuuitiLthe year 2002. 



XI 



Preface 



Preji 



ace 



such transcripts, a great deal depends upon the expertise of 
the transcriber, and much can go wrong. The original 
version o£ the Houston filmed interview, published in 1964, 
was confounded by mishearings, misunderstandings, and 
bad guesses, inevitable when a typist in Texas listened to a 
rather hoarse Swiss-German voice discussing recondite 
matters in English. The exertions of four or five auditors 
familiar with Jung's manner of speaking, subject-matter, 
and favorite exempla put the transcript right, or nearly so, 
and a revised version of Professor Evans's notably compre- 
hensive interview is closer to faithful. An even "purer" 
document would be a transcript of this sort that Jung 
himself had read, corrected, and approved, but he is not 
known to have worked over such a transcript. Going 
slightly down a scale, let us consider the transcript of a 
stenographic record, such as Derek Kitchin's stenogram of 
the question-and-answer session at Oxford in 1938. Another 
of Kitchin's skillful stenograms, of Jung's so-called seminar, 
"The Symbolic Life," given to members of the Guild for 
Pastoral Psychology in London in 1939, was indeed read 
and approved by Jung and therefore has merited a place in 
the Collected Works (in volume 18, which has been given 
the collective title The Symbolic Life). Jung's "Tavistock 
Lectures," delivered extemporaneously to a medical audi- 
ence in London in 1935 and taken down by an anonymous 
shorthand writer, had a similar history. The editors of the 
Lectures thanked Jung for "passing the report in its final 
form," though Barbara Hannah tells us that she and Toni 
Wolff attended the lectures and corrected the transcript. 2 
The "Tavistock Lectures" transcript, further corrected by 
R. F. C. Hull, is also in volume 18. 

Undoubtedly, some of the journalists who interviewed 
Jung over many years took good shorthand notes. And 

2 Barbara Hannah, Jung: His Life and Wor\ (New York, 1976), 
p. 234, where Miss Hannah (who became Jung's pupil in 1929) 
describes the occasion. 



xn 



4» 



certainly, in the profession, trustworthy interviews have 
been conducted by reporters with sketchy or peculiar note- 
taking methods or with nothing but excellent memories. 
The fidelity of the journalistic interviews in this collection 
must be accepted on trust, on the reporter's reputation, or 
on the verisimilitude of the product. The interviewers 
range in time from the self-effacing anonymous New Yor\ 
Times reporter of 1912 (his or her name lost in the morgue 
of the Times) to the strictly pro Gordon Young of the 
London Sunday Times in i960, and they include the veter- 
ans Whit Burnett, Elizabeth Shepley Sergeant (the only 
one with echt Jungian credentials), the archetypal foreign 
correspondent H. R. Knickerbocker, adroit Frederick Sands 
of the Daily Mail, and Georg Gerster, a gifted Swiss 
journalist-photographer. 

The Viennese reporters, all unidentified, who flocked to 
interview Jung when he came to lecture at the Kulturbund 
in the late 1920*5 and early 1930's, liked to cast their articles 
in the form of first-person accounts. The similarity, usually, 
of several news stories printed on the same day suggests 
that Jung held press conferences. Actually, Jung was not a 
greatly celebrated figure in those days, and the attention 
paid him by the working press of Vienna had undoubtedly 
been promoted by a dynamic woman, Jolande Jacobi, who 
directed the Kulturbund's lecture program and in the mid 
1930's, a Catholic born a Jew, fled to Zurich and became 
one of Jung's leading exponents. 

Jung may have given more newspaper interviews on his 
travels than the clipping bureaus have supplied. An item 
from the Tunis press in 1923, the New Orleans Times- 
Picayune in January 1925, or the papers of Rhodes, Jerusa- 
lem, or Alexandria in 1933 would be worth unearthing. 
According to Fowler McCormick, who was Jung's com- 
panion when he visited India in 1938 as an honorary dele- 
gate to the Silver Jubilee of the Indian Science Congress in 
Calcutta, reporters swarmed around Jung in the cities — but 



Xlll 



Preface 

no news stories have come to light. As for Jung's unpubli- 
cized trip to the United States in December 1924-January 
1925, when he also traveled with Fowler McCormick, no 
interviews have been traced, and only a couple of brief news 
stories have been unearthed. 3 Still, friendly and articulate 
introvert as Jung was, he may have granted interviews on 
his travels, not only in exotic places like Texas (driving 
through in a Chevrolet) and Khartoum (where, in 1926, he 
gave a talk at Gordon College) but in the European cities 
he constantly visited — these could be embedded like rhi- 
zomes in crumbling bound copies and coils of microfilm. 
A sub-category of journalist is the literary personage or 
savant who, for one reason or another, ventures into jour- 
nalistic territory. Victoria Ocampo, the celebrated Argentine 
woman of letters, often turned her travels and adventures 
into jeuilletons for Buenos Aires papers. Her account of a 
visit to Jung in 1934 reads as if she had never known him 
before; in any case, through Count Keyserling's epistolary 
analysis with Jung, Jung knew her. The Rev. Dr. Howard 
L. Philp, psychologist and Anglican priest, drew some fresh 
quotables out of Jung in an ostensibly political interview. 
An art historian and international civil servant, Pierre 
Courthion, took on an interview assignment in the darkest 
days of the Second World War, and we hear something 
about the furniture in Jung's house along with sober com- 

3 For example, from the Taos Valley News (Taos, New Mexico), 
Sat., Jan, 10, 1925, headed "Illustrious Visitors to Taos": "Dr. Carl 
Jung, world famed psychologist and contemporary of Freud, in 
company with Fowler McCormick, son of the famous harvester 
machinery magnate and grandson of John D. Rockefeller, Sr. visited 
Taos Monday of this week. The party is touring the United States 
and came up from Santa Fe to see the ancient village. While here 
they registered at the Columbian Hotel." In the same issue, headed 
"Visits Taos Again": "James Angelo [Jaime de Angulo], professor 
of anthropology in Berkeley University, Calif., visited Taos and at- 
tended the Buffalo Dance at the pueblo Tuesday. Mr. Angelo has 
been a frequent visitor to Taos, this time accompanying Dr. Jung 
and Mr. McCormick. The gendemen are traveling across the country 
in a Chevrolet." 



xiv 



Preface 

ment appropriate to the time. The novelist Alberto Moravia 
went to Zurich for a Milan paper and, in the course of 
walking up the Seestrasse to interview this rather odd 
Swiss psychiatrist, ruminated on F. Scott Fitzgerald, obliv- 
ious that there might have been a real connection. A famous 
geographer, Hans Carol, who reached the peak of his 
career after he emigrated to Canada, recalled a conversation 
in which Jung talked like a social thinker. J. P. Hodin and 
Patricia Hutchins were each seeking to sound Jung out on 
an explicit subject, for the book each was writing, and each 
one got a little more than he was after. Miguel Serrano, 
who must have been one of the few mystics in any diplo- 
matic corps, appeared to draw out the Jung that he wanted; 
his accounts are, in any case, impressive and unsettling. 
Mircea Eliade had already joined Jung at the Eranos 
Tagung when he undertook an interpretative article aimed 
at a French public ignorant of Jung (and only slightly 
aware, at that time, of Freud); the copious direct quota- 
tions, heard and set down in the numinous precincts of 
Eranos, have the authentic ring. 

The observations of people who encountered C. G. Jung 
-without having ajjreroncetyed/^ an assignment, 

are relatively rare. Francis Daniel Hislop, a retired British 
colonial official, happened to recall an encounter with an 
obscure, rather wrong-headed, but plainly unforgettable 
doctor thirty-five years before. Charles Lindbergh went 
along with his wife's publishers to meet Jung, got involved 
in the "flying saucers" puzzle (or nonsense, if one was a 
retired Air Force officer), and fortunately wrote up a vivid 
account of the visit nearly ten years later. One hopes for 
more reports of this kind. Did any of the British Army 
officers interned at Chateau d'Oex, under Jung's command, 
in the First World War, keep a journal or write descriptive 
letters home? That was the time when Jung drew a man- 
dala every morning upon rising. 

The memories of Jung's boyhood playmate and lifelong 



xv 



Preface 



Preface 



friend Albert Oeri — a professional writer and editor, here 
writing extra-professionally— though set down nearly fifty 
years after the occasion, are sharp and amusing. One wants 
to believe what Oeri wrote: its irreverence validates it. A 
different sort of document came from Ximena de Angulo, 
who— the daughter of Cary F. Baynes, translator of Richard 
Wilhelm's version of the / Ching, and of Jaime de Angulo, 
student of Indian languages, who took Jung to Taos in 
1925, and step-daughter of H. G. Baynes, the most promi- 
nent Jungian analyst in England — grew up close to the 
Jung family. She interviewed Jung, in professional style, as 
a friendly service to a young student, Ira Progoff, concern- 
ing his manuscript about Jung. The talk ranged wide, and 
Ximena de Angulo's report is one of the most incisive and 
intellectually solid interviews we have. 

The memoirs of Jung's devoted followers are suspect as 
being furthest from objectivity. And yet, who would mis- 
quote Dr. Jung? There must be many private records and 
journals in Jungian cupboards. Passages from Esther 
Harding's journal were published only after her death, and 
the material she wrote up is unexpected, at least in the 
entries for the earlier years, when Jung's attitude toward 
religion had not been well defined in his writings. Charles 
Baudouin's journal entries are more subjective and more 
poetic; he willingly published them, in a book that was 
posthumous. The recollections of Amy Allenby, Kenneth 
Lambert, Renee Brand, Elizabeth Osterman, George Hogle, 
and Margaret Tilly were set down expressly for memorial 
publications after Jung's death. Each is distinctive and im- 
mediate and lights up different facets of Jung. Eleanor 
Bertine's and Carol Baumann's accounts were prepared to 
enlighten the Club members back in New York. The 
Bertine article has a fresh, naive quality, like a letter home 
from summer camp. Mrs. Baumann's factual testimony was 
aimed at correcting the misunderstandings arising from the 
Ezra Pound/Bollingen Prize controversy, but its readers 



■A 



surely included no doubters, and it deserved to be circulated 
far more widely. 

The most considerable body of "Jung speaking" is not 
drawn upon for the present book: the "notes" of Jung's 
Seminars, which he led, mostly in Zurich, from the early 
1920's (perhaps earlier, but not recorded) up to the late 
1930's. These lively, erudite, and probably rapid-fire sessions 
were recorded by members and later by professional stenog- 
raphers. It is unlikely that Jung passed many of the tran- 
scripts, and yet, in earlier days, his personal permission 
(plus a hundred hours of analysis) was requisite to reading 
them. The real moving force behind the Seminar Notes 
was a remarkable American woman painter, Mary Foote, 
whose search for meaning had led her around Europe and 
then to China. She wrote Jung for an appointment, was 
given one, and took a long, slow ocean voyage westward in 
order to keep it. Once in Zurich, she stayed for nearly 
twenty years — through the war years — and devoted herself 
to editing the Seminar Notes. The transcripts are mostly 
still under restriction, but gradually some are being pub- 
lished. For the most part, they give an unvarnished record 
of what Jung said both in his set lectures and in the round- 
table discussions that followed. 



The present collection was begun in the mid 1960's, when a 
profusion of Jung's posthumata was being compiled and 
studied. Much of that material, actually written by Jung or 
in the form of transcripts that he approved, is included in 
volume 18 of the Collected Works. The present volume, 
outside the Collected Works, was set aside for interviews, 
and R.F.C. Hull translated, edited, and partially annotated 
several of these. After his death, in 1974, a great deal more 
material was added, much of it discovered lately; some 
thirty items were added when it was decided to broaden 
the collection to include encounters with Jung as well as 



xvi 



XVll 



Preface 



interviews, and the headnotes and most of the footnotes 
were composed. The Editors of the Collected Works- 
Gerhard Adler, Michael Fordham, and Herbert Read- 
advised at the early stages of selection, and advice and help 
were also given by Mr. and Mrs. Franz Jung, Jane A. 
Pratt, and in particular Aniela Jaffe. The translators who 
participated, mainly after R.F.C Hull's death, are named at 
the end of the articles they prepared: Mrs. Pratt, Ruth 
Horine, Lisa Ress, Helen Temple, Martin Nozick, Robert 
and Rita Kimber, Elined Prys Kotschnig, and Frank 
MacShane. The translations otherwise are Hull's. 

The articles have been edited in different ways. Some are 
given in full, some are abridged more or less, some are 
recast in dialogue style when this is appropriate. Some, of 
course, were originally in dialogue style. The headnote to 
each article indicates what modifications were made. Three 
dots in the middle of a line indicate an omission. Spellings, 

etc., have been conformed. 

W.M. 

NOTE FOR THE 1986 PRINTING 

Because of an error in the Spring igj2 publication of Jung's 
talk, "Is Analytical Psychology a Religion?" it was incor- 
rectly dated 1937 in this volume (p. 94). The date is now 
corrected to 1936 and the editorial preface also corrected. 
This printing contains a few other corrections of factual de- 
tails. 

W.M. 



xvm 



I' 



! 



i 



ACKNOWLEDGMENTS 



tllMUIM I MI I It ll llll l 

Gerhard Adler, for guidance, advice, and information; 

Doris Albrecht, Librarian of the Kristine Mann Library, for 
help with many research problems; 

Ruth Bailey, for information and advice; 

Stephen Black, for his 1955 BBC interviews; 

Dietrich von Bothmer, of the Metropolitan Museum of Art, 
for information; 

British Broadcasting Corporation, for the interviews by Stephen 
Black and John Freeman; 

Joseph Campbell, for information; 

Case Western Reserve University, for extracts from J. P. Ho- 
din's Modern Art and the Modern Mind; 

Dorothy Curzon, for information on Margaret Tilly; 

Hans Dieckmann, for help; 

Joyce M. Dongray, of BBC, for help in locating Dr. Black; 

Mircea Eliade, for his interview in Combat, 1951; 

Richard I. Evans, for his interviews constituting the "Houston 
Films" (fully acknowledged on p. 276); 

Michael Fordham, for extracts from Contact with Jung, and 
his guidance and advice; 

Marie-Louise von Franz, for auditing the "Houston Films" 
transcript; 

John Freeman, for his "Face to Face" interview for the BBC; 

Georg Gerster, for his interviews of 1957 and i960 and for in- 
formation; 

Manfred Halpern, for advice; 

Barbara Hannah, for auditing the "Houston Films" transcript; 

Harper's Magazine, for E. S. Sergeant's 1931 portrait of Jung; 

Hearst Magazines, for extracts from Jung's 1934 article and 
H. R. Knickerbocker's 1939 interview, both in Hearst's In- 
ternational-Cosmopolitan ; 

Joseph Henderson, M.D., for information on Margaret Tilly; 

Her Majesty's Stationery Office, London, for F. D. Hislop's 
article "Doctor Jung, I Presume," in Corona, June i960; 



xix 



Acknowledgments 

Jasna P. Heurtley, for finding several interviews; 

Dr. James Hillman, editor of Spring, for permission to use Al- 
bert Oeri, "Some Youthful Memories," and Marian Bayes' 
transcript of a talk with students, from Spring 1970, and "Is 
Analytical Psychology a Religion?", from Spring 1972, and 
for his advice and help; 

George H. Hogle, M.D., for reminiscences of his 1947 visit 
with Jung; 

Patricia Hutchins (Graecen), for extracts from her book James 
Joyce's World; 

Aniela JaflEe, for her advice and help on countless details; 

the Heirs of C. G. Jung, for Jung's spoken words in the inter- 
views recorded for radio, television, and film, and by tape 
recorder, and their help in general; 

the C. G. Jung Foundation for Analytical Psychology, Inc., 
New York, for extracts from Esther Harding's journal, 
edited by E. A. Edinger, M.D., and published in Quadrant; 

Major Donald E. Keyhoe, USMC (Ret.), for advice concern- 
ing Lindbergh's 1968 letter about his visit with Jung; 

James Kirsch, M.D., for advice and information; 

Elined Prys Kotschnig, for her translation of Charles Bau- 
douin's journal extracts in Inward Light; 

Pamela Long, for research and much other help; 

William McCleery, for information about PM in 1945; 

C. A. Meier, M.D., for advice and information; 

The New Yor\ Times, for the interview of Oct. 4, 1936; 

Gerda Niedieck, for help and advice; 

The Observer, London, for extracts from the interviews of 
Oct. 6, 1935, and Oct. 18, 1936; 

Victoria Ocampo, for her 1936 interview in La Nacion; 

Claire Myers Owens, for her 1954 encounter with Jung, and 
for information about her work; 

Payot (publishers), Paris, for extracts from Charles Baudouin's 
L'Oeuvre de Jung; 

Canon Howard L. Philp, for his 1939 interview and for 
information; 

Jane A. Pratt, for advice and help, in addition to her transla- 
tions; 



xx 



Acknowledgments 

Ira Progoff, for agreeing to the publication of Ximena de 
Angulo's 1952 interview about his thesis, and for advice; 

Dr. I. Reichstein, for the 1958 Basel "seminar"; 

Lisa Ress, for finding several interviews, in addition to her 
translation; 

Ximena de Angulo Roelli, for her 1952 interview on the Pro- 
goff thesis; 

Frederick Sands, for extracts from his 1955 interview in the 
Daily Mail; 

Schocken Books, Inc., for extracts from Miguel Serrano's C. G. 
Jung and Hermann Hesse: A Record of Two Friendships 
(United States edn.) translated by Frank MacShane, copy- 
right © i960 by Miguel Serrano; 

Scripps-Howard Newspapers, for Whit Burnett's 1931 inter- 
view; 

Don L. Stacy, for bringing to the editors' attention Derek 
Kitchin's transcript of Jung's answers to questions at Ox- 
ford, 1938; 

The Sunday Times, London, for extracts from Gordon Young's 
i960 interview; 

Tavistock Publications, for extracts from Contact with Jung; 

Katharine S. White, for information about her sister, Elizabeth 
Shepley Sergeant; 

Harry Wilmer, M.D., for help with a tape of the Stephen Black 
interview; 

Helen Wolff, for extracts from Charles A. Lindbergh's 1968 
letter to her, with the agreement of Anne Morrow Lind- 
bergh. 



xxi 



BIBLIOGRAPHICAL NOTE 



*-¥*4 »♦+ ■» t*H*HM4 » «MH 



CW = TAe Collected Wor\s of C. G. Jung, edited by Herbert 
Read, Michael Fordham, Gerhard Adler, and William Mc- 
Guire, and translated by R.F.C. Hull. Princeton and Lon- 
don, 1953-78. 20 vols. 

The Freud/Jung Letters, edited by William McGuire, trans- 
lated by Ralph Manheim and R.F.C. Hull. Princeton and 
London, 1974. 

Letters = C. G. Jung: Letters, selected and edited by Gerhard 
Adler in collaboration with Aniela Jaffe, translations from 
the German by R.F.C. Hull. Princeton and London, 1973-75. 

Memories, Dreams, Reflections by C. G. Jung, recorded and 
edited by Aniela Jaffe; translated by Richard and Clara 
Winston. New York and London, 1963. (The editions are 
differently paginated, therefore double page references are 
given, first to the New York edn.) 

Spring-- An Annual of Archetypal Psychology and Jungian 
Thought. Zurich and New York. 



C. G. JUNG SPEAKING 



xxii 



SOME YOUTHFUL MEMORIES 



I H I HH «»**« MMM * m 



Albert Oeri (i 875-1 950), of Basel, was Jung's contemporary, 
childhood playmate, and fellow student in school and at Basel 
University. He earned his Ph.D. degree in classical philology 
and history, and ultimately he became editor-in-chief of the 
Basler Nachrichten and a member of the Swiss National Coun- 
cil. In 1935, Oeri was invited to contribute to a Festschrift for 
Jung's sixtieth birthday, 1 and he wrote these reminiscences. 
They were translated for publication in Spring, 1970. 

Though Oeri was writing forty years and more after the 
events and impressions that he described, his encounters with 
Jung have the clarity and vividness of recent experiences. This 
version is slighdy abridged. 



I suppose I first set eyes on Jung during the time his father 
was pastor at Dachsen am Rheinfall and we were still quite 
small. My parents visited his — our fathers were old school 
friends — and they all wanted their little sons to play to- 
gether. But nothing could be done. Carl sat in the middle 
of a room, occupied himself with a little bowling game, and 
didn't pay the slightest attention to me. How is it that after 
some fifty-five years I remember this meeting at all? 
Probably because I had never come across such an asocial 
monster before. I was born into a well-populated nursery 
where we played together or fought, but in any case always 
had contact with people; he into an empty one — his sister 
had not yet been born. 

In the middle years of my boyhood, we sometimes visited 
the Jung family on Sunday afternoons at the parsonage at 
Klein-Hiiningen, a community near Basel. From the outset, 

1 Die \ulturelle Bedeutung der Xpmplexen Psychologie, edited by 
the Psychological Club, Zurich (Berlin: Julius Springer, 1935), 
pp. 524-528. 



1880-1900 

Carl displayed a spontaneous friendliness toward me, be- 
cause he realized that I was no sissy, and he wanted me to 
join him in teasing a cousin whom he regarded as one. He 
asked this boy to sit down on a bench in the entrance way. 
When the boy complied, Carl burst into whoops of wild 
Indian laughter, an art he retained all his life. The sole 
reason for his huge satisfaction was that an old souse had 
been sitting on the bench a short time before and Carl 
hoped that his sissy cousin would thus stink a little of 
schnapps. Another time he staged a solemn duel between 
two fellow students in the parsonage garden, probably so 
that he could have a good laugh over them later. When 
one of the boys hurt his hand Carl was truly grieved. Father 
Jung was even more upset, for he remembered that in his 
own yquth the father of the injured boy, seriously hurt 
during duelling practice, was carried into his own father's 
house. We were especially afraid that there would be 
trouble at school. But when our old headmaster, Fritz 
Burckhardt, heard of the accident, he merely asked the 
"duellists" with a mild smile, "Have you been playing at 
fencing?" 

I got somewhat better acquainted with Jung behind his 
back by secretly reading his school compositions awaiting 
correction in my father's study. Since my father generally 
allowed a free choice of topics, one could cheerfully bring 
up whatever one liked, provided one had any ideas at all. 
And Jung had plenty of ideas even then, along with the 
ability to present them. Nevertheless, he would not have 
received his diploma if the demand for a definite statement 
of proficiency in all subjects had been rigorously enforced 
at that time. He was, frankly, an idiot in mathematics. But 
in those days," happily and sensibly, failing marks were ig- 
nored when the partially untalented student was known to 
be otherwise intelligent. 

Jung really wasn't responsible for his defect in mathe- 
matics. It was a hereditary failing that went back at least 



Some Youthful Memories 

three generations. On October 26, 1859, his grandfather 
wrote in his diary, after hearing a lecture by Zollner about 
a photometrical instrument: "I understood just about noth- 
ing at all. As soon as anything in the world has the slightest 
connection with mathematics, my mind clouds over. I 
haven't blamed my boys for their stupidity in this respect. 
It's their inheritance." 2 

Apropos of this quotation, I will take the opportunity to 
say a few words about Jung's family history. His father was, 
as already mentioned, the pastor Paul Jung, born December 
21, 1842, and died January 28, 1896. He was the youngest 
son of the diary keeper quoted above, Dr. Carl Gustav 
Jung, Senior, doctor and professor of medicine at Basel, 
born September 7, 1795, in Mannheim, where his father 
was medical advisor and court doctor; he died June 12, 
1864, in Basel. Carl Gustav senior had a strange fate. As a 
young doctor and chemistry teacher at the military school, a 
great career seemed to lie before him in Berlin. But through 
his activities as a fraternity member and his participation in 
the Wartburg Festival, he became involved in the whirl of 
demagogic persecution, and spent thirteen (according to 
other versions, nineteen) months in the Hausvogtei prison, 
finally being set free without ever having been sentenced. 
He then went to Paris, where Alexander von Humboldt 
helped him to obtain a position at the University of Basel. 
He had thirteen children from three marriages. His third 
wife, mother of the pastor at Klein-Hiiningen, was de- 
scended from the Freys, an old Basel family. Although he 
was not a psychiatrist but, in order, professor first of anat- 
omy and then of internal medicine, he founded the "Insti- 
tute of Hope" for retarded children, and lavished upon the 
inmates year after year the most personal love and care. 
His student, the Leipzig anatomist Wilhelm His, wrote: 
"In Jung, Basel possessed an unusually fine and rich human 

2 Ernst Jung, Aus den Tagebuchern meines Vaters (Winterthur, 
1 910). — A.O. 



1880-1900 



Some Youthful Memories 



nature. Through the wealth of his spirit, Jung gladdened 
and heartened his fellow man for decades; his creative pow- 
ers and the ability to give warmly of himself bore fruit to 
the benefit of the University, the city, and above all, the sick 
and needy." 3 

Now for the other side. Carl Gustav Jung's mother, the 
Klein-Hiiningen pastor's wife, was born Emilie Preiswerk, 
the youngest child of Basler churchwarden Samuel Preis- 
werk (September 19, 1799— January 13, 1871) and his second 
wife, a pastor's daughter named Faber from Ober-Ensingen 
in Wiirttemberg. C. G. Jung's maternal grandfather, like 
his father's father, had thirteen children. Jung has himself 
given some information about the psychic constitution of 
his mother's family in his first paper, "On the Psychology 
and Pathology of So-Called Occult Phenomena." 4 Church- 
warden Preiswerk, administrator of the Basel church, was a 
visionary who often experienced entire dramatic scenes 
complete with ghost conversations. He was, however, also 
a very intelligent and learned gentleman, specifically in the 
area of Hebrew philology. His grammar book was held in 
such high esteem by the Jews that in America one of them 
changed his name to "Preiswerk." 

Otherwise the Preiswerks are a patrician family of Basel, 
and thoroughly Aryan. Pastor Paul Jung, by the way, had 
an interest in Semitic philology in common with his father- 
in-law. In Gottingen he had studied under Ewald, and was 
not only a theologian but also a Doctor of Philosophy. To 
sum up ^scientific abilities and interests are well represented 
in Jung's paternal as well as maternal ancestry, but^ those 
who possessed them were quite dry, scholarly types.; 

As far as I know, Jung never considered studying any- 
thing but medicine. And he applied himself vigorously to 
its study from the summer semester of 1895 on. That very 

3 Memorial Publication Commemorating the Opening of the 
Vesalianum, Leipzig, 1885.— A.O. 
*Orig. 1902; in CW 1, pars. 63ft. 



winter his father died. I remember how, shortly before his 
death, he who had once been so strong and erect complained 
that Carl had to carry him around like a heap of bones in 
an anatomy class. Carl's mother together with both children 
moved into a house near the "Bottminger Mill" in the Basel 
suburban community of Binningen. She was a wise and 
courageous woman. When her son once happened to sit in 
the Zofinger pub until dawn, he thought of her on the way 
home, and picked her a bouquet of wild flowers by way 
of appeasement. 

Carl — or "the Barrel" as he is still known to his old school 
and drinking companions — was a very merry member of the 
Zofingia student club, always prepared to revolt against the 
"League of Virtue," as he called the organized fraternity 
brothers. He was rarely drunk, but when so, noisy. He 
didn't think much of school dances, romancing the house- 
maids, and similar gallantries. He told me once that it was 
absolutely senseless to hop around a ballroom with some 
female until one was covered with sweat. But then he dis- 
covered that, although he had never taken lessons, he could 
dance quite well. At ;_a jestival. in . Zpfingen, while dancing in 
the grand Heitern Platz, he fell seemingly hopelessly in love 
with a young lady from French Switzerland. One morning 
soon after, he entered a shop, asked for and received two 
wedding rings, put- twenty centimes on the counter, and 
§umd_for_the _door. ...But the owner stammered something 
about the cost of the rings being a certain number of francs. 
Sctjung gave them back, retrieved the twenty centimes, and 
left the store cursing the owner, who, just because Carl 
happened, to possess absolutely nothing but twenty centimes, 
dared .to interfere with his engagement. Carl was very de- 
pressed, but ^jnevexJackledjthe matter again, and so "the 
Barrel" remained unamanced for quite a number of years. 

From the first, Jung very actively participated in the 
Zofingia club meetings, where scholarly reports were read 
and discussed. In the minutes of the Zofingia, of which, by 



1880-1900 

the way, he was president during the winter semester 
1897/98, I find mention of the following papers given by 
him: "On the Limits of Exact Science," "Some Reflections 
on the Nature and Value of Speculative Research," 
"Thoughts on the Concept of Christianity with Reference 
to the Teachings of Albert Ritschl." 5 Once, when we 
couldn't get a speaker, Jung suggested that we might hold a 
discussion without specifying the topic. The minutes read, 
"Jung vulgo 'Barrel,' the pure spirit having gone to his 
head, urged that we debate hitherto unresolved philosophical 
questions. This was agreeable to all, more agreeable than 
might have been expected under our usual 'prevailing cir- 
cumstances.' But 'Barrel' blithered endlessly, and that was 
dumb. Oeri, vulgo 'It,' likewise spiritually oiled, distorted, in 
so far as,such was still possible, these barreling thoughts . . ." 
At the next meeting, Jung succeeded in having the word 
"blithered," which he held to be too subjective, struck from 
the minutes and replaced by the word "talked." 

In this single instance, Jung failed in what he was other- 
wise generally successful in doing, that is, in intellectually 
dominating an unruly chorus of fifty or sixty students from 
different branches of learning, and luring them into highly 
speculative areas of thought, which to the majority of us 
were an alien wonderland. When he gave his paper "Some 
Thoughts on Psychology," as club secretary I coulcLhave 
recorded some thirty discussion topics. It must be remem- 
bered that we were studying in the second half of the 
nineteenth century, a time when an attitude of open ma- 
terialism was firmly entrenched among doctors and nat- 
ural scientists, and when so-called scholars of the-iuimani- 
ties expressed a kind of total and arrogant critique of the 
human spirit. Yet despite this, Jung, by choice an outsider, 
was able to keep everyone under his intellectual thumb. 

This was possible— and I would not wish to conceal it— 
because he had courageously schooled himself, intensively 
studying occult literature, conducting parapsychological ex- 

5 The publication of Jung's "Zofingia Lectures" is projected. 



Some Youthful Memories 

periments, and finally standing by the convictions he de- 
rived therefrom, except where corrected by the result of 
more careful and detailed psychological studies. He was 
appalled that the official scientific position of the day toward 
occult phenomena was simply to deny their existence, rather 
than to investigate and explain them. For this reason, 
spiritualists such as Zollner and Crookes, about whose 
teachings he could speak for hours, became for him heroic 
martyrs of science. Among his friends and relatives he 
found participants for seances. I cannot say anything more 
detailed about them, for I was at the time so deeply involved 
in Kantian critique that I could not be drawn in myself. 
My psychic opposition would have neutralized the atmos- 
phere. But in any case, I was open-minded enough to merit 
Jung's honest zeal. It was really wonderful to let oneself 
be lectured to, as one sat with him in his room. His dear 
little dachshund would look at me so earnestly, just as 
though he understood every word, and Jung did not fail to 
tell me how the sensitive animal would sometimes whimper 
piteously when occult forces were active in the house. 

Sometimes too Jung would sit late into the night with his 
closer friends at the "Breo," an old Zofinger pub in the 
Steinen district. Afterwards, he didn't like walking home 
alone through the sinister Nightingale Woods all the way 
to the Bottminger Mill. As we were leaving the tavern, 
therefore, he would simply begin talking to one of us about 
something especially interesting, and so one would accom- 
pany him, without noticing it, right to his front door. Along 
the way he might interrupt himself by noting, "On this 
spot Doctor Gotz was murdered," or something like that. 
In parting, he would offer his revolver for the trip back. I 
was not afraid of Dr. Gotz's ghost, nor of living evil spirits, 
but I was afraid of Jung's revolver in my pocket. I have no 
talent for mechanical things at all, and never knew whether 
the safety catch was on or whether, due to some careless 
motion, the gun might not suddenly go off. 

At the end of his University years, Jung went into psy- 






1880-1900 



chiatry. Because I was out of the country for some time, I 
don't remember the transition period. He had simply found 
his destined way. That I could not doubt when I visited him 
once during his residency at Burghblzli and he told me of 
his lively enthusiasm for his work. It was somewhat painful, 
though, for this old sinner to see that he had begun to 
follow his master, Bleuler, on the path of total abstinence 
as well. At that time he would look so sourly at a glass on 
the table that the wine would turn to vinegar. Jung very 
kindly showed me around the institution, accompanying the 
tour with informative comments. In the wards, restless 
patients stood around or lay on their beds. Jung engaged 
some of them in conversation from time to time, wherein 
their delusions became perceptible. One patient spoke 
eagerly to me, and I was listening just as eagerly, when 
suddenly a heavy fist whizzed through the air right next to 
me. Behind my back an irritated patient who had been 
lying in bed had sat up and tried to punch me. Jung did 
not contest my fright at all; instead, he told me that the 
man could hit with great force if one didn't keep a certain 
distance from his bed. And at the same time he laughed so 
hard that I felt like that beleaguered sissy at the Klein- 
Hiiningen parsonage. 

[Translated by Lisa Ress] 



AMERICA FACING ITS MOST 
TRAGIC MOMENT 



»-»+♦♦♦♦♦«♦« 



Jung made his third visit to the United States in September 
1912, at the invitation of Fordham University, in the Bronx, 
New York, to lecture on psychoanalysis. His previous visits 
had been in September 1909, for a month, when he and Freud 
were invited to lecture at Clark University, in Worcester, Mass., 
and had afterwards traveled as far west as Niagara Falls; and 
in March 1 910, for a week, when he was summoned to Chicago 
for a psychiatric consultation. When Jung received the Fordham 
invitation, in March 191 2, he and Freud were ostensibly on 
friendly terms — their correspondence, at least, still seemed 
to be cordial — but in the months following, their differences 
flared up. Jung's Fordham lectures, entitled "The Theory of 
Psychoanalysis," proved to be more of a critique than an exposi- 
tion of Freudian theory. While he was in New York, Jung 
not only delivered the lectures at Fordham — nine of them, to 
an audience of about ninety psychiatrists and neurologists — but 
held a two-hour seminar every day for a fortnight, gave clini- 
cal lectures at Bellevue Hospital and the New York Psychiatric 
Institute on Ward's Island, and addressed the New York 
Academy of Medicine. It is not surprising that he attracted 
the attention of The New Yor\ Times, so that an interview 
was conducted and the resulting article published, at excep- 
tional length, in the magazine section of the Times on Sunday, 
September 29. There was a three-quarter photo-portrait, by the 
Campbell Studio, a stylish establishment in the Waldorf-Astoria 
Hotel, and at the head of the article, framed in a box, was a 
selection of aphorisms drawn from Jung's own words (see 
below). The anonymous interviewer's own explanatory remarks, 
which were interpolated midway, are mostly given here (in 
italics) as introduction. 



(Dr. Carl Jung is the Professor of Psychiatry and Psychol- 
ogy at the University of Zurich, where for years he has been 



10 



11 



1912 



America Facing Its Most Tragic Moment 



i ! 



doing wor\ in psychoanalysis} He is well known in Europe 
through this wor\ and through his writings. It was he who 
brought Dr. Sigmund Freud to the recognition of the older 
school of psychology, and together these two men stand at 
the head of a school of thought which is considered by many 
students of the subject to give the most radical explanation 
of the human mind, and the most fundamental, since the 
beginning of its study. Dr. Jung lays emphasis upon the 
fact that psychoanalysis brings to the surface of the con- 
scious mind all the hidden memories and factors of the 
unconscious mind — which has so long been called the sub- 
conscious. He believes that, if a man can understand his 
hidden motives and impulses, he comes into a new power. 

It is the search for this power as it is to be found in the 
individual, in the Nation, or in the race which makes 
psychoanalysis — in the eyes of its followers— the greatest 
human study being carried on today. Everything that science 
has discovered is used by these new psychologists. All the 
fruits of literature, all the myths of the ancients, serve to 
reveal the hidden influences of man and society. 

Psychoanalysis came into maturity in the materialistic 
age when the followers of Darwin and Spencer believed 
that they had the whole truth and the full wisdom. All the 
explanations that were being given were "scientific" and 
based upon what seemed to the scientist tangible proofs. 
The schools of neurologists and physiological psychologists 
all insisted that they, too, were scientific; but there were, 
nevertheless, many things still in the dar\ which seemed to 
be of equal value with all that was known of the mind and 
its mechanism. 

Dr. Sigmund Freud of Vienna, in his study of the hys- 
teria and insanity which came under his attention as a 
physician, was the first psychologist to persist in searching 
for the cause which science says must in every case precede 

1 In the Times article, the older spelling "psychanalysis" is used 
throughout. It has been edited here to "psychoanalysis," but in gen- 
eral the editing is merely stylistic. 



12 



the effect. Other psychologists had ascribed all mental de- 
rangements to physical causes, and yet had attained com- 
paratively small results in the treatment of certain cases. 
This led Freud to believe that there was something besides 
a physical cause, and he went upon the theory that a mental 
effect might well have a mental cause in combination with a 
physical. This made him, in the eyes of his colleagues, a 
revolutionist, even though his method of study was more 
thoroughly scientific than that of his predecessors. The great 
number of cures that he can point to as a result of his 
method — psychoanalysis — has forced his antagonists to ac- 
cept much of what he has done, but the war between the 
new and the old method is still on in Europe, and its echoes 
are heard here in this country wherever physicians meet 
together to discuss hysteria, neurosis, and other manifesta- 
tions of psychic derangement. 

Dr. Carl Jung has proceeded upon this same theory, and 
has added to it other scientific processes. His classrooms 
are crowded with students, who are eager to understand 
what seems to many to be an almost miraculous treatment. 
His clinics are crowded with medical cases which have baf- 
fled other doctors, and he is here in America to lecture upon 
his subject. There is antagonism here, too, but Dr. Jung 
finds a growing interest in psychoanalysis.) 

When I see so much refinement and sentiment as I see in 
America, 2 I look always for an equal amount of brutality. 
The pair of opposites — you find them everywhere. 

2 Jung's first analysis of American society took the form of a 
"Report on America" which he delivered to the Second International 
Psychoanalytic Congress, at Nuremberg in March 1910, immediately 
after returning from his second visit. It survives only as a brief 
abstract (in CW 18, par. 1284; also see par. 1285), For more on his 
American visits, sec The Freud I Jung Letters, pp. 245-46 (1909), 
301-4 (1910), and 513-16 (1912). For Jung's later observations on 
the psychology of Americans, particularly his theory of a "Negro 
complex," see "Mind and Earth" (1927), CW 10, pars. 95ff., and 
"The Complications of American Psychology" (1930), CW 10. His 
Fordham lectures, "The Theory of Psychoanalysis," are in CW 4. 

J 3 



1912 



America is the most tragic country in the world today. 

Prudery is always the cover for brutality. 

The chivalry of the South is a reaction against its 
instinctive desire to imitate the Negro. 

The American women have to work harder than any 
other women to attract the men of their country. 

The reason American girls like to marry foreigners is 
not love of titles, but love of men who are a little dan- 
gerous. 

America is the most emotional country, and the coun- 
try of the greatest self-control. 

The effort to maintain self-control in the face of brutal 
instinct makes us a land of neurasthenics. 

In America you distrust a man if he has more than one 
idea. , 

American wives have thrown themselves into social 
activity because they are not happy with their husbands. 
Neither the men nor the women know this. 

The regeneration of America depends on whether it 
has the courage to face itself. 

Eliminate prudery and America may become the great- 
est country the world has ever known. 

American women rule the home because the American 
men have not yet learned to love them. 



I find the greatest self-control in the world among the 
Americans— and J. search for its cause. Why should there 
be so much self-control, I ask myself, in America^jand... I 
find., for, aa_answer.l>r,utality. I find a great deal of prudery. 
What is the cause, I ask,. and. I discover brutality. Prudery 
is always the cover for brutality. It is necessary — it makes 
TSe^£Ossible until you discover the brute and take . real 
control of it. When you do that in America 3 then youjwill 
bejhe. IriiosI emotional, the most temperamental, the most 
fully developed people in the world. 

It seemsTo me that you are about to disco ver you rselves. 



14 



America Facing Its Most Tragic Moment 

You have discovered everything else— all the land of this 
^continent, all the resources, all the hidden things of Nature 
which can serve you in the building of your Nation. You 
have built your big cities and crowded your cities with 
theatres and clubs and cathedrals and schoolhouses. It is all 
ready and waiting for you to use to some great end when 
you shall discover yourselves. To do that you will have to 
study your own self-control, you will have to analyze your 
own consciousness, you will have to admit that you have 
been hiding from yourselves ever since the Puritans and 
Huguenots came to this country. 

You will not be ashamed of the brutality when you 
understand it, and as soon as you understand it, it will be 
transformed into great emotions which shall give impetus 
to your National development far beyond what you now 
hope for. Your success in all the big things of art and 
literature will astound Europe, as today it is astounded by 
your great systems of business and philanthropy. 

In America, as in all countries entered by a conquering 
race, the conquerors always drop toward the level of the 
conquered, for it is much easier to go down ten feet than to 
climb up one. The whole effort toward human develop- 
ment is to push us up that one foot, and if we let go any 
of the things which we have gained by civilization, we slip 
quickly. In South Africa the Dutch, who were at the time 
of their colonizing a developed and civilized people, 
dropped to a much lower level because of their contact with 
the savage races. The savage inhabitants of a country have 
to be mastered. In the attempt to master, brutality rises in 
the master. He must be ruthless. He must sacrifice every- 
thing soft and fine for the sake of mastering savages. Their 
influence is very great; the more surely they are dominated, 
the more savage the master must become. The slave has 
the greatest influence of all, because he is kept close to the 
one who rules him. 

In America the Indians do not influence you now; they 



r 5 



1912 



have fallen back before your power, and they are very few. 
They influenced your ancestors. You, today, are influenced 
by the Negro race, which not so long ago had to call you 
master. In the North the Negro's present influence is not 
great. In the South, where they are not given opportunities 
equal to the white race, their influence is very great. They 
are really in control. 

X^QjixjJiaL^urJSQUtrierrie^ the Negro 

accent; your women are coming to walk more and more 
like, the Negro. In the South I find what they call sentiment 
and chivalry and romance to be the covering of cruelty. 
Cruelty and chivalry are another pair of opposites. The 
Southerners treat one another very courteously, but they 
treat the Negro as they would treat their own unconscious 
mind if they knew what was in it. When I see a man in a 
savage rage with something outside himself, I know that 
he is, in reality, wanting to be savage toward his own 
unconscious self. 3 

Your American mind is very direct. It is very logical. It 
deals so much of the time with what we call reality, that is, 
with the raw materials of life, in order to bring forth your 
great enterprises, your great buildings, that you have 
learned to think, to reason, upon abstractions. If a man in 
America sees there is some small gap in his business which 
must be filled to make the business effective, he does not 
think merely of his own peculiar enterprise, but he thinks 

3 Interviewer's interpolation: "This word 'unconscious,' which 
Dr. Jung uses constantly, signifies to him all that lies below the 
threshold of that part of the mind which we recognize as conscious. 
He believes that in our growth, in childhood and youth, we are 
storing this unconsciousness of ours with fears and hopes, likes and 
dislikes; that we push down instinctively into this forgetfulness all 
the facts which we refuse to face, or which we do not understand. 
In our maturity, these facts and memories, prejudices, and passionate 
elements have the same vitality as at the moment of repression, and 
because they are hidden we do not recognize the part they play in 
our lives. They are likely in certain cases to dominate the conscious 
mind and to affect the health of the individual." The foregoing 
introductory paragraphs followed. 

16 



America Facing Its Most Tragic Moment 

of the gap in relation to all business enterprises like his, 
and he works out a method and is even likely to organize 
some great business as a result of having seen a small defect 
in his own private enterprise. 

That is what I call thinking in abstraction, and it is 
something which the human race is only now learning to 
do. In antiquity they knew the principles of machinery, but 
their minds were not equal to making the machines which 
should express these principles. In some way, when they 
saw the stuff before them out of which the machine was to 
be made, they began to think of its form and to delight in it, 
and they decorated it, and they lost sight of its end, and, 
hence, never brought it into existence as an effective ma- 
chine. In America you never lose sight of the end for which 
you are designing your great machinery of American life. 
Your end is effective business, the dealing with the raw 
material of life, and you have built up a great system. 

It is expected, because I am a European, that I will criti- 
cize America, and it is expected of me as a student of 
psychology that I should find fault with the way you think, 
with the way the American mind realizes itself, but I am 
not a critic; I am a psychoanalyst. It Js jpr me to try to 
u^ersun^andjwhere ; one understands one cannot judge; 
for if every ..effect has its cause, there : must have been suf- 
ficient cause for the great effects that I find in your country, 
andj must search for the cause and iiotbiame the effect. 

There-is no. question but that you have sacrificed many 
beautiful things to achieve your great cities and the domina- 
tion of your wildernesses. To build so great a mechanism 
youfnust have smothered many growing things,, but there 
must b'e somewhere a cause, and when you have discovered 
that, your mechanism will not have its danger for you 
that it "has today. Whatever a man builds is likely to devour 
him, and the builder in America is in danger of being de- 
stroyed^but why should I call him names for that reason? 
He has to express himself in big buildings, in trusts, in 



*7 



1912 

.systems,... of., which we in Europe have as yet only the 
beginnings. We envy you. We have not learned to think 
in such great abstractions — and we are not in as great 
danger as you Americans. 

I believe much of this ability to build on a large scale, to 
crush everything which is in the way of that building, to 
destroy everything which hinders your processes and sys- 
tems, grows out of your Puritan ancestry. They had 
learned to think abstractly before they came here. The 
biggest problem of the Middle Ages was to learn to think. 
They chose the greatest abstraction of all, the idea of God, 
and they sacrificed everything to that idea. jCpuntries^went 
down before it, families were broken up by it, armies were 
slaughtered in the attempt to learn to thinklof .God, and 
your Puritans, the Huguenots, and all those to whom the 
idea of God was greater than anything else, learned to 
think so well that they left their own homes, and you are 
the descendants of these people. An abstract thought is 
always ruthless. It is the most dangerous one to think, and 
it is the. most marvelous. 

So you must believe that I am not a critic, but that I am 
trying to understand. Many things which might displease 
me will no longer displease me when I understand what 
their cause is. A people is like an individual. If it suffers, it 
must not be hurt by a physician ..unless.he j§ ; quite sure that 
ilLthat hurt lies part of the cure. 

America d oes not see tna t it is in any danger. It does not 
understand that it is facing its most tragic moment: a 
moment in which it must make a choice to master its 
machines or Jo be devoured by them — and since it does not 
know this I would not want tq hurt it. 

America ..is Jthe... country . of. the. .nervous disease^ and in 
every nervous disease there is the psychic element. It is the 
painful witness of some conflict in both soul and body. I 
try to find out from my patients what they are hiding from 
themselves, and so, when they come to me, I am only a 



18 



America Facing Us Most Tragic Moment 

listener. I make my own mind a blank — receptive. I must 
have no prejudices, I must be making no judgments upon 
the moral or spiritual state which they disclose. 

After a while in our interviews they speak of something 
with difficulty, and then it becomes evident where the con- 
flict is. Sometimes it is very childlike — some mistaken idea 
they have of life which holds them fast and keeps them 
from true living, and has even set up a nervous ailment as a 
sign of its existence. If my patient comes to realize that this 
conflict is real, and is tragic, and that all of his efforts to get 
away from it are useless as well as unworthy of him, then I 
can help him. Then what I have learned can be put at his 
service. 

I study the individual to understand the race, and the 
race to understand the individual. I ask myself, What in- 
fluence has the building of America had upon the American 
man and the American woman of today ? I find that it is a 
good subject for the student of psychoanalysis. 

There is only so much vital energy in any human being. 
We call that in our work the Libido. And I would say 
that the Libido of the American man is focused almost en- 
tirely upon his business, so that as a husband he is glad to 
have no responsibilities. He gives the complete direction of 
his family life over to his wife. This is what you call giving 
independence to the American woman, It is what I call the 
laziness of the American man. That is why he is so kind 
and polite in his home, and why he can fight so hard in his 
business. His real life is where his fight is. The lazy part of 
his life is where his family is. 

When men are still in thejSarbaric stage they make women 
theixslavjes. f^'while they^arejtill barbaric by nature, some 
influence makes them see that they .iiare. not treat women 
as slaves, then what do they dp? They do, not know yet 
howjtp love.. something which is equal to themselves. They 
do not know what real independence is, so they must kneel 
down before this slave and change her into the one thing 



19 



1912 



America Facing Its Most Tragic Moment 



which they instinctively (even when they are barbarians) 
respect: they change the slave idea into the mother idea. 
And then they marry the mother-woman. And they respect 
her very much, they can depend upon her. They need not 
be her master. In America your women rule their homes 
because the men have not yet learned to love them. 

I made many observations on shipboard. I notice that 
whenever the American husband spoke to his wife there 
was always a little melancholy note in his voice, as though 
he were not quite free; as though he were a boy talking to 
an older woman. He was always very polite and very kind, 
and paid her every respect. You could see that in her eyes 
he was not at all dangerous, and that she was not afraid of 
being mastered by him. But when any one told him that 
there was betting going on he would leave her, and his 
face became eager and full of desire, and his eyes would get 
very bright and his voice would get strong, and hard, and 
brutal. That is why I say his Libido, his vital energy, is in 
the game. He loves to gamble. That is business today. 

Jt takes much vital energy to be in love. In America you 
give so many opportunities both to your men and women 
that they do not save any of their vital force for l ovin g. This 
is a wonderful country for opportunity. It is everywhere. It 
spreads out. It runs all over the surface of everything. And 
so the American mind runs out and spreads over the whole 
country. But there is a dark side of this. The people of 
America do not have to dig deep for their own life. In 
Europe we do. 

In Europe we have many divisions. Take my own little 
country of Switzerland. In Switzerland we must be Swiss, 
because we won't be German, and we won't be French, 
and we won't be Italian. And the people of Germany feel 
the same way. But in America you can be anything. In my 
country I have not as many opportunities joyen to me. 
Therefore I dig deeper and deeper in order to find my own 



life. In America you think you are concentrated because 
^you are so direct,. because you like your men who have only 
one idea at a time. I find that you distrust a man if he has 
two ideas. But if he has only one, you give him every 
chimce. ip launch his enterprise. I do not feel that you care 
for those things which are profound. You can so easily dis- 
tract yourself. And anything that you find unpleasant you 
bury so quickly at once in your unconscious mind. 

The American husband is very indignant when he comes 
to me for treatment for neurasthenia or nervous breakdown, 
and I tell him it's because he is brutal on one hand and 
prudish on the other. You have in America the wooden face, 
just as they have it in England, because you're trying so 
hard to hide your emotions and your instincts. In Europe 
we have many little outlets for our emotions. We have an 
old civilization, which gives us a chance to live like men 
and women. But in England, even a hundred years ago, 
the people were still the conquering race that had been 
colored by the savage instincts of the original inhabitants 
of the British Isles. The English had to conquer the Celt, 
and the Celt lived a few hundred years ago in almost 
savage conditions. 

In America you are still pioneers, and you have the great 
emotions of all adventurous pioneers, but if you should 
give way to them you would lose in the game of business, 
and so you practice the greatest self-control. And then 
this self-control — which holds you together and keeps you 
from disolution, from going to pieces — reacts upon you 
and you break down under the effort to maintain it. 

That is what I mean by psjciioanalyjis. The search back 
jnto the soul for the hidden psychological factors wttch^ in 
combination with physical nerves, have brought about a 
false adjustment to life. In America just such a tragic mo- 
ment has arrived. But you do not know it is tragic. All you 
know is that you are nervous, or, as we physicians say, 



20 



21 



1912 



America Facing Its Most Tragic Moment 



,' I 



neurotic. You are uncomfortable. But you do not know that 
you are unhappy. 

You helieve, for instance, that American marriages are 
thsJtia^ijMt:„in..the..world.-.I say. they are the most tragic. 

I_knojK„this- not only ...from my study of the people as a 

whole^ but from my study of the individuals who come to 
me. I find thaLthe. men and women are giving their vital 
energy to everything except to the relation between diem- 
selves. In that relation all is confusion. The women are the 
mothers of their husbands as well as of their children, yet 
at the same time there is in them the old, old primitive 
desire to be possessed, to yield, to surrender. And there is 
nothing in the man for her to surrender to except his kind- 
ness, his courtesy, his generosity, his chivalry. His com- 
petitor, his rival in business, must yield but she need not. 

There is no country in the world where women have to 
work so hard to attract men's attention. There is in your 
Metropolitan Museum a bas-relief which shows the girls 
of Crete in one of their religious dances about their god 
in the form of a bull. 4 These girls of 2000 b.c. wear their 
hair in chignons; they have puffed sleeves; their corseted 
waists are very slender; they are dressed to show every line 
of their figures, just as your women are dressing today. 

At that time the reasons which made it necessary to at- 
tract men to themselves in this way had to do with the 
morals of their country. The women were desperate just as 
they are today, without knowing it. In Athens four or five 
hundred years before Christ there was even an epidemic 
of suicide among young girls, which was only brought to an 
end by the decision of the Areopagus that the next girl who 
did away with herself would be exhibited nude upon the 

* What Jung saw was apparently a copy of a fresco from Knossos, 
a new acquisition in the Hall of Reproductions. It is no longer on 
exhibition. The original fresco is reproduced in Arthur Evans, The 
Palace of Minos at Knossos, vol. 3 (1930), pi. xviii. 



streets of Athens. There were no more suicides. The judges 
of Athens understood sex psychology. 

On Fifth Avenue I am constantly reminded of that bas- 
relief. All the women, by their dress, by the eagerness of 
their faces, by their walk, are trying to attract the tired men 
of their country. What they will do when they fail I can't 
tell. It may be that then they will face themselves instead 
of running away from themselves, as they do now. Usually 
men are more honest with themselves than .women. But in 
this country your women have more leisure than the men. 
Ideas run easily among them, are discussed in clubs, and 
so here it may be that they will be the first ones to ask if 
you are a happy country or unhappy. 

Itjnay be that you are going to produce a race which are 
human beings first, and men and women secondarily. It 
may be that you are going to create the real independent 
woman who knows she is independent, who feels the re- 
sponsibility of her independence and, in time, will come 
to_see_that she must give spontaneously those things which 
up to now she only allows to be taken from her when she 
pretends to be passive. Today the Am e ri can woman is still 
cojifused ^hejw-ants independence, jlie. waati_tQ. be free to 
dc^ everything, to have all the opportunities which men 
have, and, at the same time, she wants to be mastered by 
man_and to be possessed in the archaic way of Europe. 

You think your young girls marry European husbands be- 
cause they are ambitious for titles. I say it is because, after 
all, they are not different from the, European girls; jiiey 
like the way European men make love, and they like to 
feel we are a little dangerous. They are not happy with 
their American husbands because they are not afraid of 
them. It is natural, even though it is archaic, for women to 
want to be afraid when they love. Ifjthey don't want to be 
afraid then perhaps they are becoming truly independent, 
and you may be producing the real "new woman." But up 



22 



23 



1912 

_to jthis. time your American man isn't ready for real inde- 
pendence in woman. He only wants to be the obedient son 
of his mother-wife. There is a great obligation laid" upon 
the American people — that it shall face itself — that it shall 
admit its moment of tragedy in the present — admit that it 
has a great future only if it has courage to face itself. 



24 



FROM ESTHER HARDING'S 
NOTEBOOKS: 1922, 1925 



* + * + ***■■*■*+++++* 



M. Esther Harding was born in England in 1888, took her 
M.D. degree at the University of London in 191 4, and began 
her personal analysis with Jung in the early 1920's. In 1923, 
she established her practice as an analytical psychologist in New 
York, and in the years that followed she became the outstand- 
ing exponent of Jung's psychology in America. After her death 
in 1971, her notes of conversations with Jung were found 
among her papers, and her literary executor, Edward F. Edin- 
ger, M.D., selected and edited these for publication. 1 In the 
summer of 1922, Esther Harding had gone to Kiisnacht, near 
Zurich, to work with Jung. 



Kiisnacht, 3 July [1922] 
Dr. Jung spoke of the inferior function being united to the 
collective: it is just a bit of nature and, as such, must first 
be accepted and adapted to. . . . The superior function is in 
your hands, and you can put it to your uses. The inferior is 
your master, and you must adapt yourself to it. Yet it is 
nature; there is life there. The thing that wants to be born 
must first be found. The form it is to grow into shall later 
be the object of search, and the search may be a long one 

4 July 
I began by describing how I always had so much to say 
before I got into the room, so that I had to edit my thoughts 
because of the many undertones of meaning. Jung agreed 

1 In QuadmntJ^w~JLo^)^y 111:2. (winter...i.975), a Jung Cen- 
tennial Issue. For other extracts from Esther Harding's notebooks, 
see pp. 180, 367, and 440. The texts were taken verbatim from Dr. 
Harding's papers, except for minor grammatical corrections. 



2 5 



1922 



that my language was scanty, and yet he felt it to be full of 
allusion. Extraverts* language is thin and poor, but profuse, 
so that although what they want to say may be very slight, 
aLleast when they have finished they have said what they set 
out to say. He went on to say that when speaking to an ex- 
trayert he has to cut down his thought;, also when he is 
speaking to an introvert he has to cut down, for the thought 
of a n introvert, even if expanded into a book, would not be 
fully expressed. . . . 

I had been trying to find out the meaning of my [slip of 
the tongue] and thought it was in protest against the extra 
difficulty of the feminine position regarding searching for 
the anima. This he denied. He said a man must take up a 
feminine attitude, while a woman must fight her animus, a 
masculine attitude. I asked, "Is this why I always want to 
fight you?" And he replied, "In so far as I am your animus. 
As far as you are identified to your animus, so far will you 
project him to me. And then, if you battle me with him who 
is demonic, I call my demon, my anima, to my aid, and it is 
two married couples fighting. Then you have a hell of a 
row." He said this is what happens when you get a recip- 
rocal transference. But that as he is not [word illegible], 
I need not fear that would happen to him. 

Then he began talking about how it happens that a pro- 
fessional woman lives her animus. The professional_situa- 
tion is new for woman and needs a new adaptation, and 
this, as always, is readily supplied by the animus. On the 
other hand, analysis requires a new adaptation from a man, 
for to sit still and patiently try to understand a woman's 
mind js far from a masculine attitude^ The only time he 
does it is as lover to his mistress; he will not do so for his 
wife, for she is only his wife. In love, his anima shows him 
how. He then takes on a feminine tenderness and uses the 
baby talk he learned from his mother; he calls on the eternal 
image of the feminine in himself. But [in analysis] that 
won't do. [The male analyst] has got to learn the feminine- 



26 



From Esther Harding's Notebooks 

ness of a man, which is not the anima. He must not let his 
masculinity be overwhelmed, or his weakness calls out the 
animus in the woman patient. 

Similarly, the professional woman takes on the animus, 
the prototype of the father, and develops a god-almightiness, 
.[an imitation of] the hero, instead of developing the mas- 
^u]mky_of_the_ female. This animus is primitive man, and 
men want to react to it with their fists. But, as this is a 
woman, that way is barred to them; so they shun her — just 
as a man who lives his anima is shunned by all really wom- 
anly women. 

Dr. Jung went on to speak of the strength of woman- 
hood, how it is stronger than any [imitation of the] male 
adaptation, and how a. .woman who is woman from the 
crown of her head to the tip of her toe can afford to be 
.masculine, just as a man who is sure of his masculinity 
can afford to be tender and patient like a woman. . . . 

Next he spoke of the Self and how it can be separated off 
from the demons. He reiterated that words in the realm of 
the spirit are creative and full of power. I said, "You mean 
as Logos?" He replied, "Yes. God spake and created from 
the chaos — and here we are all gods for ourselves. But use 
fewjvyords here, words that you are sure of. Do not make 
ajong theory or you will entangle yourself in a net, in a 
trap." 

Next he spoke of fear. He said, "Be afraid of the world, 
for it is big and strong; and fear the demons within, for they 
are many and brutal; but do not fear yourself, for that is 
your Self." I said I feared to open the door for fear the 
demons would come out and destroy. He said, "If you lock 
them up they will as surely destroy. The only way of de- 
limiting the Self is.i).y. experiment, Go as far as your desire 
goes,_and_you wil[ presently find that you have gone as far 
as your own Jaws allow. If you feel afraid, be brave enough 
to run away. Find a hole to hide in, for this is the action of 
a__brave man, and by so doing you are exercising courage. 



27 



1922 



Presently the swing of cowardice will be over, and courage 
will take its place." I said, "But how hopelessly unstable and 
changeable you will"appear!" He replied, "Then be unstable. 
A new stability will reassert itself. Does one live for other 
people or for oneself? Here is the place, where one must 
learn true unselfishness." 

The law was made by man. We made it. It is therefore be- 
low us, and we can be above it. As St. Paul said, "I am 
redeemed and am freed from the law." He realized that, 
as man, he had made it. So also a contract cannot bind us, 
for we who made it can break it. 

Th 1 1 s, | v ice jon : if entered i n to sincerely as a means of 
.finding and expressing the Self, is not vice, for the fearless 
honesty cuts that out J But when we are bound by an arti- 
ficial barrier, or by laws and moralities that have entered 
into us, then we are prevented from finding, or even from 
seeing, that there is a real barrier of the Self outside this 
artificial barrier. We fear that if we break through this 
artificial barrier we shall find ourselves in limitless space. 
But within each of us is the s eli '-regul ating Self. 

5 July 

I began the hour by telling Jung how something wonderful 
had happened to me yesterday, that his talk on the animus 
relationship had cleared things up, so that much had clicked 
into place, and that now I felt quite different. I said that 
yesterday we were dealing with the negative relationship 
to the animus, but there must also be a positive relation- 
ship. He replied that there certainly must — but that the im- 
portant part of analysis was to get that negative point 
cleared, for that is the growing point of differentiation 
from the unconscious. Until that is clear, the voice of the 
animus is as the voice of God within us; in any case, we 
respond to it as if it were. When we are not aware of the 
negative aspect of the animus, we are still animal, still con- 
nected to nature, therefore unconscious and less than hu- 



28 



From Esther Harding's Notebooks 

man. We need to reach a higher degree of consciousness, 
which must be sought at that point. Then we discover a 
new country. And it is our responsibility to cultivate it. ("To 
him that knoweth to do good and doeth it not, to him it is 
sin.") Also the legend of Christ and the man working on 
the Sabbath, to whom he said, "If thou knowest what thou 
doest, blessed art thou! But if thou knowest not what thou 
doest, cursed art thou!') If we are conscious, morality no 
longer exists. If we are not conscious, we are still slaves, and 
we are accursed if we obey not the law He said thatjjf we 
belong to the secret church, then we belong, and we need 
jiot worry about it, but can go our own way. Jf we do not 
bskyjg, no amount of teaching or organization can bring us 
there. 

Then I asked him about a single animus figure, and he 
said, "Many souls are young; they are promiscuous; they are 
prostitutes in the unconscious and sell themselves cheaply. 
They are like flowers that bloom and die and come again. 
Other souls are older, like trees or palms. They find, or must 
seek, one complete animus, who shall perhaps be many in 
one. And when they find him, it is like the closing of an 
electric circuit. Then they know the meaning of life. 

"But to have an animus like an archimandrite 2 is as if to 
say, You are a priest of the Mysteries. And this needs a great 
humility to counterbalance it. You need to go down to the 
level of the mice. And as a tree, so great as the height of its 
branches, so deep must be the depths of its roots. And the 
meaning of the tree is neither in the roots, nor in the up- 
lifted crown, but in the life in between them." 

Then I asked him how to get the mean between the two 
worlds,) between the world of the unconscious and that of 
reality. 1 He replied, "You are the mediator. It is in your 
immediate life that they meet. In the pleroma they are 
merged — in nature they are one — and the primitive is al- 

2 Dr. Harding had dreamed of an abbot, an archimandrite. — E.F.E. 



29 



1925 

jKays_^riying up against its oneness. The glacier is always 
there. Our civilization finds an adaptation that will satisfy 
these things for a while, and they are quiet. Then they begin 
tD-XQme. up again, and again we find a new adaptation, and 
jhey are quiet once more. Today we are in a period of great 
transition, and they come up again. Eventually they will 
swallow man, but it will not be the same again, for he has 
attained the union of the opposites through their separation. 
Possibly, after man will come a period of the animal and 
then again the plant — who knows? — and who or what will 
carry on the lamp of consciousness? Who knows?" 



In December 1924 Jung came to the United States — his first 
visit since before the War — and journeyed to the Southwest. 
With American friends he visited the Grand Canyon on New 
Year's Day 1925, and then the party motored across Arizona 
and New Mexico to Taos, where Jung spent a day or two with 
the Pueblo Indians. He traveled back to New York through 
the South, and sailed for Europe on January 14. 



New York, 13 January [1925] 
Dr. Jung gave a talk to a group at Dr. Mann's apartment 
on 59th Street/ He spoke on racial psychology and said 
many interesting things about the ancestors, how they 
seem to be in the land. As evidence of this, he spoke about 
the morphological changes in the skulls of people here in 
the U.S.A. and in Australia. 

JH_e jaid that in America there is a certain lack of rever- 
ence, a certain ruthlessness. The ancestors are not considered 
here, their values not respected. He spoke of the "single- 
mindedness" of Americans, which would be impossible to 

3 Kristine Mann (1873-1945), M.D., a founder of the Analytical 
Psychology Club of New York and of its library, which is now 
named in memory of her. 



3° 



From Esther Harding's Notebooks 

Europeans because of all the_ many considerations to which 
J^ey^ must j>ay due regard. The American disregards these 
completely, is, indeed, utterly unconscious of them. 



In the spring, Dr. Harding again went to Kiisnacht to work 
with Jung. 

Kiisnacht, 13 May 
Dr. Jung talked about the various forms of relationship, 
about sexuality, about friendship (which is mitigated desire, 
with its obligations to write frequently and so on). There 
is a third kind of relationship, the only lasting one, in which 
it is as though there were\an invisible telegraph wire be- 
tween two human beings./ He said, "I call it, to myself, the 
Golden Thread." This may be masked by other forms of 
relationship. And other forms may be present without any 
such thread in them. It is only when the veil of maya, of 
illusion, is rent for us that we can begin to recognize the 
Golden Thread. 

He went on to speak of the three realities that make up 
the individuated state: God;_.the_Self; and Relatedness. Or 
in Christian terms: God, Father, and Son; the Spirit, or 
Self; and the Kingdom of Heaven. 

.And just as it is impossible to individuate without re- 
latedness, so it is impossible to have real relationships with- 
out individuation. For otherwise illusion comes in con- 
tinually,, and you ..don't .know where you are. 



3i 



"Doctor Jung, I Presume" 



"DOCTOR JUNG, I PRESUME" 



MIIHHHH 



In October 1925, Jung embarked on an expedition to East 
Africa with two friends. Their safari — with the sanction of the 
Foreign Office in London, it was called the "Bugishu Psycho- 
logical Expedition" — traveled through Kenya and Uganda dur- 
ing November and December, and in January 1926 the party 
voyaged down the Nile to Khartoum, thence to Egypt and 
home. Jung has given vivid accounts in his Memories, Dreams, 
Reflections, chapter 9, "Travels," and in a letter to a sixteen- 
year-old neighbor boy, Hans Kuhn, which he wrote in Uganda 
on New Year's Day 1926 (see Letters, vol. 1). 

The following article, by Francis Daniel Hislop, a retired 
British foreign officer, appeared in Corona: The Journal of Her 
Majesty's Overseas Service (London), June i960. 



Despite the increased facilities for travel nowadays, I fancy 
it must still be unusual for a junior Government officer in 
an up-country station to find himself entertaining a great 
European thinker of the calibre of Carl Gustav Jung of 
Zurich. Nevertheless, I had this memorable experience a 
long time ago, and it occurred because Jung, oddly enough, 
was wandering about in a safari car, more or less lost. 

It happened in 1925 when I was the Assistant District 
Commissioner at Kapsabet, the Government station for 
Nandi District in Kenya, an out-of-the-way place in those 
days. One afternoon I was returning to my bungalow, 
which lay just off the main road behind a screen of trees, 
when I saw a large safari box-body car pulled into the side. 
Now this main road was magnificently broad, bordered and 
shaded by enormous blue gums, and looking as if it led to 
some important place. But, alas, just beyond my house it 
changed abruptly into a neglected earth track. This was, in 



3 2 



& 



■ 



! 



fact, part of the old Sclater Road to Uganda for foot cara- 
vans in the 1890's. It had become literally side-tracked when 
the railway reached Kisumu by a more southern route in 
1 901 and an easier connection with Uganda was made 
across Lake Victoria. 

All this explains why the safari car had stopped : the three 
Europeans in it had seen where the broad road ended at the 
township boundary. They had got out of the car and were 
looking at me speculatively as I approached. 

I said, "Good afternoon. Can I help you in any way? I'm 
the A.D.C. here." 

The tallest of the three, a reddish-faced man, replied. 
"We're trying to get to Mount Elgon and would like to 
know the best road to take." I told them there was no direct 
road to Elgon from Kapsabet and they could not possibly 
get there in daylight. I went on to explain that Elgon, where 
I had recently spent several weeks on a boundary job, was 
a sprawling land mass with extensive foothills, and it would 
be about seventy miles on earth roads, either by Kakamega 
or Eldoret, to get to them. Then it would be over twenty 
miles to the summit. 

"We aren't interested in the summit," said the spokesman. 
"We just want to get to the foothills." 

From where we were standing we could see the blue-gray 
shape of Elgon away to the north west receding into the 
usual mist. As we all gazed at it, thinking, I suppose, how 
close it might be as the vulture flew, I again stressed that 
they could not get there in daylight and suggested they had 
some tea with me, pushed on to the hotel at Eldoret, thirty 
miles distant, and made a fair start in the morning. 

The tall man then said, "I am Dr. X." (the name escaped 
me and I have never discovered who he was) } "This is Dr. 

1 Helton Godwin Baynes (1882-1943), M.D., English psycho- 
therapist and one of Jung's leading pupils and interpreters. He 
translated Psychological Types (1923) and other works by Jung. 
Baynes made a film of the African expedition which survives and is 

33 



1925 



Jung." He indicated a burly man, middle-aged, with a red- 
dish-brown country face. "And this is Mr. Douglas, our sec- 
retary, an American." 2 Douglas was a young man, about 
twenty-five, athletic looking and darkly handsome. He ap- 
peared bored by the proceedings and I do not recollect that 
he ever uttered a single word— perhaps the perfect secretary. 
On the other hand I noticed that they had no African ser- 
vants with them and it occurred to me later that perhaps 
this explained young Douglas's gloom. 3 

I led the way to my bungalow, and over tea Dr. X again 
took up the batting. 

"It may seem odd to you," he said, "but we are in fact 
psychologists intending to do some field work." 

1 started mentally. "Did you say Dr. Jung?" 

The burly man smiled and said, "Yes, I am Dr. Jung." 

"Of Zurich?" 

"Yes, of Zurich." He looked surprised and pleased. 

"I cannot help wondering," I said, "what kind of field 
work you will find to do on Elgon?" 

Dr. X. explained. "Dr. Jung," he said, "is interested in 
dreams and their interpretation, and as a change from 
studying them among the highly civilized people of Europe, 
he wants to get further back and see if he can learn any- 
thing from a fairly primitive people. After considering the 
possibilities everywhere we decided that the tribes on Mount 
Elgon would suit us best for this purpose. And so," he con- 
cluded, "we are devoting our summer vacation to this 
work." 

They were thinking, it seemed, of contacting the Kara- 

sometimes shown. For photographs of the expedition, see Letters, 
vol. i, pi. IV. 

2 George Beckwith, a young American friend of Jung's. He died in 
an accident soon after returning home from the trip to Africa. 

3 According to Jung's accounts, the safari later included five ser- 
vants, a column of bearers, and two automobiles. The expedition, 
which had semi-official status, was also given a military escort of 
three soldiers for the trek into the Mount Elgon area. 



34 



"Doctor Jung, I Presume" 

mojong or the Sabei and I told them that these tribes were 
in Uganda — so far as I knew, in a Closed District, which 
meant that they would have to get a permit to enter it from 
the Provincial Commissioner at Mbale. They seemed rather 
disconcerted, and I hurried on to another obvious weakness 
in this psychological expedition. 

"How," I asked, "do you propose to communicate with 
these people?" 

"We have thought of that," said Dr. X, "and Dr. Jung 
has learned Swahili for the purpose." 

"Yes," said Dr. Jung. "I have spent six weeks learning 
Swahili." 

Somewhat diffidently I pointed out that the Karamojong 
and the Sabei had their own languages and did not speak 
Swahili. Dr. Jung said he understood Swahili was the 
lingua franca and everyone spoke it. I explained that though 
Swahili was indeed the lingua franca of East Africa, this 
only meant that people could be found everywhere who 
spoke and understood it, but that in fact the majority of the 
Africans, including the vast majority of the women, did not 
speak Swahili. Further, the more primitive the tribe the 
fewer Swahili speakers would there be. I said they would 
have to use interpreters and probably the Administration 
would be able to help them in this way. I carefully avoided 
suggesting that it might be necessary for them to have in- 
terpreters who could speak English, as this would have been 
to cast doubts on Dr. Jung's command of Swahili, and for 
all I knew a man of his intellectual capacity might have 
been able to learn more Swahili in six weeks than I could 
in six years. Like a prophet of doom I went on to say that 
even with good interpretation, they would run into consider- 
able difficulty, because the more primitive the tribe the more 
purely materialistic was their language. Swahili was a poor 
medium for expressing any abstract ideas or emotions, and 
I was pretty sure that the Karamojong and Sabei languages 
would be even worse. At this point Dr. X. observed that this 



35 



1925 



situation was not unexpected and they had their own meth- 
ods of getting results. That, of course, immediately shut 
me up, and Dr. Jung took up the running, asking me about 
camping conditions on Elgon. 

Eventually he came to the subject of the Elgon caves. 
"Have you been inside them?" he asked. 

"I have been inside one," I replied. 

"What did you find inside?" 

"Fleas," I answered. 

Dr. Jung gave a great bellow of laughter, and Dr. X. 
joined in a little more moderately, but young Douglas only 
gave me a sort of sour smile as if I had taken an undue 
liberty with the great man. 1 went on to explain that the 
people who lived on Elgon had always used the caves as 
cattle shelters, so far as I knew, and the floors were covered 
with dung and sheep and goat droppings to a great depth. 
In these rich layers flourished countless millions of fleas. 
Visiting one with gum boots on and an electric torch had 
been enough for me. 

"Of course," I said, "I know what you have in mind- 
paintings or such-like by primitive or even prehistoric man. 
In fact, that's what I was looking for in the cave I visited, 
but I did not see anything. However, there are many caves. 
I have never heard of any relics of that kind in any of 
them, but I don't know if all the caves have ever been 
visited, more especially by trained observers. You might be 
lucky and find something that has hitherto been missed. 
The fleas are rather a deterrent." Shortly afterwards they 
thanked me warmly and I put them on the road to Eldoret. 

It was a queer thing that I never heard any more about 
this psychological expedition, though I was on the look-out 
for news. Unless they had resources and prepared lines of 
work about which they did not tell me, I cannot help think- 
ing that their safari could hardly have produced any useful 
results. On the other hand I have just looked up the current 
Who's Who, and under the name, "Jung, Carl Gustav," 



36 



"Doctor Jung, I Presume" 

(who is still alive— I saw him on television not long ago), 4 
I see "Recreations: sailing, researches about primitive psy- 
chology in North Kenya, 1925-26, and other voyages." 
The last word is presumably a slip into French for "travels"; 
I am more intrigued by the dates "1925-26," because either 
Dr. Jung and his friends stopped longer than I gathered 
was their intention, or they came back the following year, 
in which case I can only suppose that they would have been 
rather better prepared than on their initial effort. 

And what was the result of Dr. Jung's "Researches about 
primitive psychology in North Kenya"? Truth compels me 
to state that I don't know. It is not my line of country. 

*See below, the BBC interview with John Freeman, pp. 424^. 



37 



THREE VERSIONS OF A 
PRESS CONFERENCE 

IN VIENNA 



1 1 mm 1 1 i i i i iii » 



Jung was invited to lecture at the prestigious Kulturbund, in 
Vienna, on February 22, 1928, and a day or two earlier he was 
interviewed — simultaneously, it appears— by several representa- 
tives of the Vienna press. On February 21, different reports 
appeared in as many newspapers, and three of them are given 
here. Though certain themes recur in each article, the report- 
ers seized on different aspects of Jung's comments and ex- 
pressed them in different terms. The reports are complemen- 
tary, each supplying details the others lack, but it is doubtful 
whether any of them reproduced Jung's actual words. 

The Kulturbund was a cultural society that sponsored lec- 
tures by many European writers, scientists, and political fig- 
ures, and the invitation to lecture had come from its executive 
vice-president, Jolande Jacobi (1890-1973). In 1938, after the 
Nazi occupation of Austria, Dr. Jacobi emigrated to Zurich, 
became a leading pupil of Jung, and was one of the founders 
of the C. G. Jung Institute. 

1. The Realm of the Unconscious 1 

Coming back to Vienna again after some eighteen years' 
absence 2 is coming back to the city from which the fame of 
Sigmund Freud has radiated into the world. Even though 

1 "Das Reich des Unbewussten," Neue Freie Presse, Feb. 21, 1928; 
published as by Jung. 

2 Jung's last visit to Vienna had probably been on March 25-30, 
1909, when he and his wife visited Freud. See The Freud/Jung 
Letters, 137J-139F; also 187F n. 1, concerning Ernest Jones's 
statement, evidently mistaken, in Sigmund Freud: Life and Wor\ 
(II, p. 158), that Jung visited Vienna on April 19, 1910. 

38 



Three Versions of a Press Conference in Vienna 

differences of scientific opinion have brought about a cer- 
tain estrangement between Professor Freud and myself, a 
debt of gratitude nevertheless impels me to honor Freud 
and Janet 3 as the men who have guided me in my scientific 
career. Vienna also means for me re-encountering a doctor 
whose theories have very close and important connections 
and affinities with my own system. I mean Dr. Bernhard 
Aschner, whose Konstitutionslehre and Humoralpathologie* 
have a psychic analogue in my system of psychoanalysis. In 
the^ nineteenth century, the century of technology and exact 
science, we strayed very far from the intuition of earlier pe- 
riods in history. Purely inteliectualistic, analytical, atomistic, 
and mechanistic thinking has, in my opinion, landed us in 
_a cul de sac, since anajysis also requires synthesis and in- 
tuition. The humoral pathology of Aschner, who, inciden- 
tally, has rediscovered medical techniques based predomi- 
nantly on intuition through his translation of Paracelsus, 5 
is for me a proof that the most important insights into 
body and mind can be gained by ways that are not purely 
rationalistic. 

It is difficult for me to outline the special features of my 
teachings in a few words. For me the essential thing is the 
investigation of the unconscious. Whereas Freud holds that 
in order to cure the neuroses, all of which "as you know he 
rjerives from sexual roots, it is sufficient to make the uncon- 
-Seiojis conscious, I maintain that it is necessary to coordinate 
_with consciousness the activities streaming out of the matrix 
of_the unconscious. I try to funnel the fantasies of the un- 

3 Pierre Janet (1859-1947), French neurologist and psychologist, 
one of the first to recognize the unconscious, though he was hostile 
to psychoanalysis. Jung studied with him in Paris 1902-3. 

* These concepts could not be traced. 

5 Jung wrote three essays (in CW 13 and 15) about the Swiss 
physician and philosopher Philippus Aureolus Theophrastus Bom- 
bastus von Hohenheim, known as Paracelsus (1493-1541), founder 
of a new school of medicine. A ten-volume edition of Paracelsus 
published in 1580-91 was translated into modern German by 
Aschner. 



39 



1928 



conscious into the conscious mind, not in order to destroy 
them but to develop them. In the case of a neurotic business- 
man, for example, I might be able to show that his neurosis 
XsjJueJo his unfulfilled artistic inclinations. By examining 
his dreams, I shall now find out what his special gift is, and 
the most satisfying cures can be obtained if you can get the 
neurotic businessman— to stick to this example— to write 
poems, paint pictures, or compose songs. It may be that 
artistically speaking these works are completely worthless, 
bjit For their creator they have an immense subjective value. 
Developing fantasy means perfecting our humanity. | 
" Jn this connection I regard religious ideas as of the utmost 
importance, by which I do not, of course, mean any par- 
ticular creed. Even so, as a Protestant, it is quite clear to me 
that, in its healing effects, no creed is as closely akin to psy- 
choanalysis as Catholicism. The symbols of the Catholic 
liturgy offer the unconscious such a wealth of possibilities 
for expression that they act as an incomparable diet for the 
psyche. 

My travels into the interior of Africa and to New 
Mexico gave me an opportunity to make a thorough study 
of the manifestations of the unconsious among primitive 
peoples. I was able to convince myself that religious ideas 
are inborn in them, and that religions should not be regard- 
ed in any sense as neurotic products, as is now asserted in 
certain quarters. I still remember two natives with whom I 
climbed a mountain ten thousand feet high in East Africa. 
During the night they were trembling with fear, and when 
I asked the cause of their agitation, one of them answered: 
"Everything is full of spirits." 

On Wednesday evening I am going to speak in the Kul- 
turbund on "The Structure of the Psyche." 6 I shall discuss 

8 "Die Struktur der Seele," which had previously appeared in print 
as the first half of "Die Erdbedingtheit der Seele" in a symposium, 
Mensch und Erde, edited by Count Hermann Keyserling (Darm- 
stadt, 1927) ; afterwards republished in the Europaische Revue (Ber- 

40 



Three Versions of a Press Conference in Vienna 

the nature of thinking, feeling, of sensation and intuition, of 
the will, of instinct, and of the fantasies arising out of the 
unconscious. I hope this will lead to some conclusions about 
the cure of neurosis. When you consider that various forms 
of neurosis, especially fatigue neuroses in big cities, are 
steadily increasing, and remember what a burden of painful 
feelings, how much unhappiness, how many suicides the 
neuroses have on their conscience, you will begin to ap- 
preciate the value of combatting them. 

2. In Quest of the Second Ego 7 

It is my opinion that sex does not play the all-powerful 
role in psychic life that Freud and his followers attribute to 
it. Sex is after all only a glandular product, and it would be 
wrong to describe the brain as a mere appendage of the sex 
glands. In my conception of dreams and their significance 
for the sick psyche I am not at one with Freud, either. As 
you know, the great Viennese investigator calls the dream a 
wish-fulfilment. Wishes that in the waking state were for 
some reason or other repressed into the pit of the subcon- 
scious are supposed, in his view, to find their way back into 
consciousness in the dream and to determine the content of 
the dream-images. In my view the dream is a compensation, 
a. completion of the waking state. Suppose I am in a dis- 
agreeable situation and ought to worry about it. In the 
waking state for some reason or other I don't, and then I 
will worry about it in the sleeping state. My dream will be 
this worrying I didn't do. The doctor curing a neurosis ac- 
cording to Freud's method tries to dig up the wishes and 

lin), IV (1920). It was later revised and expanded in Seelenprobleme 
der Gegenwart (Zurich, 1931), and this version is translated as 
"The Structure of the Psyche" in CW 8. 

7 "Die Suche nach dem zweiten Ich," Neues Wiener Journal, 21 
Feb. 1928; published as an interview with Jung, whose quoted words 
are translated here without the reporter's comments. 



4 1 



1928 



Three Versions of a Press Conference in Vienna 



tendencies buried in the subconscious of. the patient and to 
bring them into the clear light of consciousness in order to 
destroy them. My method is different. Thej-epressed tend- 
.eacies that. are. made conscious should not be destroyed but, 
qnjthe contrary, should be developed further. An example 
, wjlLmake this clear. In everyone some kind of artist is hid- 
ing, Among, savage peoples this is evident from the fact 
that the warrior decks his spear with feathers or paints his 
shield. In our mechanized world this urge for artistic crea- 
tion is repressed by the one-sided work of the day and is 
verx often jhe_ cause of psychic disturbances. The forgotten 
.artist must be fetched up again from the darkness of the 
subconscious, and a path cleared for the urge for artistic 
expression — no matter how worthless the paintings and 
poems may .be that are produced in this way. 

My friend the great English writer H. G. Wells has 
drawn a wonderful picture of this state of affairs in a novel. 
The hero of his story Christina Alberta's Father 6 is a petty 
businessman, completely imprisoned in his prosaic surround- 
ings and his business. But in his few leisure hours another 
ego gradually emerges from his subconscious. He fancies 
he is the re-embodiment of the Babylonian ruler Sargon I, 
the reincarnation of the king of kings. Some kind of 
Sargon, in various disguises, is hiding in everyone of us. 
The fact that he cannot get out of the subconscious and is 
unable to develop himself is often the cause of severe psychic 
disturbances. 

The unconscious search, by people who are imprisoned 
in our narrow machine-world, for the other ego, for com- 
pletion, is also the reason for their flight back to the primi- 
tive. One need only remember the tremendous enthusiasm 
for ancient Egypt at the time when the tomb of Tutankh- 
amen was discovered. Thirty or forty years ago the tomb 

8 Concerning the genesis of this novel (1925) in a conversation 
between Wells and Jung, see E. A. Bennet, What Jung Really Said 
(1966), p. 93. 



42 



i 



would have been a matter of interest only for a few hundred 
scholars, and would have left the public at large, who 
still found everything Egyptian distasteful, completely in- 
different. Again } _qne has. only to think of the craze for 
Negro dances, for the Charleston and jazz — they are all 
symptoms of the great longing of the mass psyche for this 
more complete development of the powers immanent within 
uv^hkh primiti.ves450ssess to a higher degree than we do. 
All this is still more evident in America. There American 
millionairesses marry Indian chieftains. That's just it. We 
are, in a sense, cultural cripples. 

3. Back to the Joys of the Golden Age! 9 

The world had become impoverished in beauty, and people 
harked back to the Romans, to their nature-bound think- 
ing, reminding themselves of those distant ages when every 
bush harbored a shrine, when those most marvellous fig- 
ures of fantasy, the gods, were nothing other than perfect 
human beings. After this epoch, the Renaissance, they began 
remembering the ancient Greeks, Rousseau preached the 
return to Nature, and the classicists (among them Schiller) 
the return to the sun of Homer. And in our century we 
jvvantjojjo still further back into the pasf^in bur hounded 
Jage„lhere rise up before our wistful eyes epochs when man 
communed with clouds and sun, wind and tempest, the 
Golden Age of humanity, as it is still sporadically reflected 
in the primitive, becoming more radiant the further we 
climb exploringly the genealogical tree of the present races, 
back to the ancient Egyptians and Babylonians, to the Bibli- 
cal trib es and their forebears. It is not for nothing that the 
recent excavations in Egypt and Mesopotamia have aroused 
such interest, it is not by chance that our civilization was 
so ready for Negro __sqng$ and dances. We all. long to go 

*"Zuriick zum Urweltglikk!", Vol\szeitung, 21 Feb. 1928; pub- 
lished as by Jung, from an interview. 



43 



1928 



Three Versions of a Press Conference in Vienna 



home to the joys of the Golden Age, which let us be 
natural, .graceful, and conscious of our strength, delivered 
from the bane of our time, the neuroses. 

The aetiology of the neuroses is the great divide between 
my theory and that of Sigmund Freud, from whom I 
parted company some fifteen years ago because of this 
opposition. My sojourns among the natives of East Africa 
and the Pueblo Indians of New Mexico proved to me that 
the causes of neurosis do not necessarily lie in the repression 
of the sexual instinct; the repression of any other primary 
instinct, say of hunger, can produce it just as well. Freud's 
way and mine also diverge very widely in the matter of 
dream interpretation. Whereas he will always look for 
sexual causes, I trace the origin of dreams back to age-old 
mythological influences. Deriving from our remotest an- 
cestors, there slumber in all of us subconscious memories 
which awaken at night and seek to compensate the false 
attitude modern man has towards nature. A schizophrenic 
in my clinic once explained to me that there was a tube in 
the sun from which it blew out the wind. Many years later a 
papyrus was discovered that told the scientific world for the 
first time of an age-old myth about the wind from the sun- 
tube, 10 a myth that had not only been recorded in the ancient 
papyrus but also inherited from generation to generation in 
the deepest layers of the conscious mind. Then, in a single 
case, the enchained fantasy was allowed to burst forth, at 
first in inexplicable form. What fell below the threshold of 
consciousness during the day both in our own lives and 
those of our ancestors awakens in dreams to posthumous 
reality. 

.Proper education is the best safeguard against psychic 
illness in its manifold forms, which we call neuroses. A 
schooling that is not too strict, and is actually what many 
people_would call a bad. one, is in my experience the best. 

10 See "The 'Face to Face' Interview," below, pp. 4341. 



44 



If that doesn't help, try to awaken the hidden artist who 
slumbers in every man. Give him a chance to bring to 
light : the pictures he carries unpainted within himself, to 
fxee.jie_Jinwritten poems, he has shut up inside him, and 
yet another source jsf psychic disturbances is removed. Even 
though the work he produces will hardly ever amount to 
anything technically and artistically, it has helped to^ cleanse 
and release his psyche. 

The play of fantasy is also helped by religion, an indispen- 
sable auxiliary for the psychologist. Catholicism in particu- 
lar, with its ceremonial and liturgy, gives fantasy a priceless 
support, for which reason I have found in my practice that 
believing Catholics suffer less from neurosis and are easier 
to cure than Protestants and Jews^For the need of religion, 
for its validity as a primary instinct of mankind, there are 
abundant proofs reaching back to the dawn of time. Then 
it was part of man's unconscious, now it is part of his con- 
scious, psychic diet; to it the doctor must turn when he 
tries to lead the patient back to himself, to rid him of all 
the psychic trash that has been pumped into him, to leave 
more room for the free play of fantasy, to cultivate his open 
and hidden talents, to make him more balanced, to guide 
him by the great saying of the Greek poet: Become what 
you are. 

How great the importance of psychic hygiene, how great 
the danger of psychic sickness, is evident from the fact that 
just as all sickness is a watered-down death, neurosis is 
nothing less than a watered-down suicide, which left to run 
its malignant course all too often leads to a lethal end. Out 
of the many cultural cripples one-sided cerebral thinking 
has produced, the psychoanalyst who approaches them not 
merely as medical specimens but as human beings should be 
able to bring them closer to nature, make them more 
natural, as nature wanted them to be and as they faced life 
thousands of years ago. If the gifts we are endowed with 



45 






1928 

break down before the tasks of life, if they wither away or 
run riot, we have only our flight from nature to blame, from 
the Golden Age of our furthest ancestors that returns to us 
only in dreams, a flight that leads to suppressed naturalness 
and to oppressive over-civilization of the psyche. 



46 



AMERICANS MUST SAY "NO" 



M tll MMMtMm»*tMI 



The Vienna Kulturbund invited Jung to lecture again on 
January 29, 1931, and his theme was "The Unveiling of the 
Soul"; the lecture was eventually translated as "Basic Postu- 
lates of Analytical Psychology" (CW 8). Again Jung was the 
subject of several interviews in the Vienna press, brief ones 
dealing chiefly with his views of primitive people in East 
Africa and the United States. The publicity evidently caught the 
eye of the New York Sun's foreign correspondent in Vienna, 
Whit Burnett, who went to Zurich and interviewed Jung on 
February n. Burnett (1899-1973) had been an expatriate 
writer for several years, first on the Paris Herald Tribune. Later 
in 193 1, he and his wife Martha Foley founded the magazine 
Story, which they edited in Vienna, in Palma de Mallorca, and 
after 1933 in New York. In 1957, in a collection entitled This Is 
My Philosophy, Burnett included Jung's essay "The Spirit of 
Psychology" (in CW 8 as "On the Nature of the Psyche"). 

Burnett's interview was published in the Sun for February 
27, 193 1. Except for his opening paragraphs, his comments 
are omitted here. 



(The trouble with the United States is a wholesale mis- 
directing of lives, according to Dr. Carl Jung, founder of 
the Zurich school of psychoanalysis and chief opponent in 
psychology to the Freudian school of psychological thought 
of Vienna. 

The old criticisms that America is too uniform, too speedy, 
and too "external" are all true, the Zurich scientist believes. 
What is more devastating is that these "evils" are being 
taken by the inhabitants of the United States as good 
standards to be imitated. What is good for some is a poison 
for most others. The result is that in such centers of speed 
and uniformity as New Yor^ State, there are today, Jung's 



47 



1931 



statistical examination shows, as many beds in asylums as 
there are in all the other capitals combined.) 

The tempo of America is being taken as a norm to which 
life should be directed. In the world today America stands 
on one side, with its often enviable "standard of living" 
slogan before its eyes, and Russia on the other side, also 
uniformly conscious of a present "standard of poverty." 
Both countries are today's great forces. 

It is, of course, quite impossible to think that these two 
diverse natures of America and Russia could merge, or 
would merge: they would fight out their differences to the 
death. Europe stands between Russia and America as a 
refuge of that individualism which is necessary to the 
leading of a happy life, an individualism more or less dif- 
ferent in each case, but an individualism opposed to the 
uniformity of both Russia and America, and an individual- 
ism necessary if we are to satisfy our great unconscious and 
primary mind which warns us of our misdirections and, 
finally, to save us, fosters neuroses. 

New York is only one glaring example of what the pre- 
vailing notions in America do to the general nature of 
people. In other States, like California, where not so much 
attention is paid to people's foolishness, the insane are not 
so easily separated, and throughout America there are thou- 
sands suffering from sick souls who are never quite hospital 
cases. 

What America needs in the face of the tremendous urge 
..toward uniformity, desire of things, the desire for compli- 
cations in life, for being like one's neighbors, for making 
recprdsj etcetera, is one great healthy ability to say "No." 
To rest a minute and realize that many of the things being 
sought are unnecessary to a happy life, and that trying to 
live exactly like one's successful neighbor is not following 
the essentially different dictates, possibly, of a widely differ- 
ent underlying personality which a person may possess and 
yet consciously try to rid himself of, the conflict always 

4 8 



h 



Americans Must Say "No" 

resulting in some form, sooner or later, of a neurosis, sick- 
nessj or insanity. 

We are awakening a little to the feeling that something is 
wrong in the world, that our modern prejudice of everesti- 
mating the importance of the intellect and the conscious 
mind might be false. We want simplicity. We are suffering, 
in our cities, from a need of simple things. We would like 
to see our great railroad terminals deserted, the streets 
deserted, a great peace descend upon us. 

These things are being expressed in thousands of dreams. 
Women's dreams, men's dreams, the dreams of human 
beings, all having much the same collective primal un- 
conscious mind — the same in the central African Negro I 
have lived among and the New York stockbroker — and it is 
in our dreams that the body makes itself aware to our mind. 
The dreanus in large parta warning of something to come. 
The dream is the body's best expression, in the best possible 
symbol it can express, that something is going wrong. The 
dream calls our mind's attention to the body's instinctive 
feeling. 

Ij man doesn't pay attention to these symbolic warnings 
ofrmjjody he pays in other ways. A neurosis is merely the 
body's taking control, regardless of the conscious mind. We 
have a splitting headache, we say, when a boring society 
forces us to quit it and we haven't the courage to do so with 
full freedom. Our head actually aches. We leave. 

When whole counjxies ayoid^these warnings, and fill their 
asylums, become uniformly neurotic, we are in great danger. 
The last war, I thought, had taught us something. Seem- 
ingly not- Our unconscious wish for deserted places, quiet, 
inactivity, which now and then is being expressed in the 
heart of our great cities by a lyrical outbreak of some poet 
or madman, may project us, against our conscious wills, 
i nto a nother catastrophe from which we may never recover. 
We may gas our lives out, and then will we have deserted 
jrefuges and none of us left to sit, and dream, in the sun. 



49 



T 



DOCTOR JUNG: A PORTRAIT 
IN 1931 



HtlMHItMMt i mlll" 



The American writer Elizabeth Shepley Sergeant (i 881-1965) 
had analyzed and studied with Jung in Zurich before the first 
world war, and throughout her life she maintained a devoted 
interest in analytical psychology. During an extended stay in 
Zurich, from autumn 1930 to spring 1931, she was a member 
of Jung's Seminar on "Interpretation of Visions." 1 Her article 
"Doctor Jung: A Portrait," in Harper's, May 193 1, abridged 
here, gives a vivid picture of how Jung conducted his seminars. 
Besides novels and stories, E. S. Sergeant's books included 
Shadow-Shapes: The Journal of a Wounded Woman (1919), 
her experiences as correspondent in France for the New Repub- 
lic, with an account of being wounded when she visited a 
battlefield; Fire Under the Andes (1927); and memoirs of Willa 
Cather (1953) and Robert Frost (i960). 



I had seen him often as a highly civilized modernist, 
driving a red Chrysler through the twisting streets of 
Zurich; pondering the problems of the psyche in his sober, 
book-lined study, with its Oriental paintings and Christian 
stained glass, before I came upon the primitive Jung, one 
rainy summer day, outside his favorite dwelling place 2 — a 
gray stronghold, of medieval outline, standing alone and 
apart, surrounded by hills and water— where, when his work 
as a doctor is over, he retires to become for a season the 
detached scholar and writer who turns experience into 
theory. Ensconced there in the shelter of the round stone 

1 Interpretation of Visions, 1930-1934, 9 vols., recorded by Mary 
Foote and privately issued. Abridged edition: The Visions Seminars, 
ed. Jane A. Pratt and Patricia Berry, 2 vols. (Zurich, 1976) . 

2 Jung's "tower" retreat at Bollingen, on the upper lake of Zurich. 



5° 



Doctor Jung: A Portrait 

tower which he had built with his own hands, dressed in a 
bright blue linen overall, with his powerful arms in a tub 
of water, I beheld Doctor Jung earnestly engaged in wash- 
ing his blue jeans. 

His sagacious face was ruddy and shining, and his keen 
brown eyes, which see so deep into the minds of men, were 
quietly absorbed in his rancher's task. Doctor Jung never 
does anything by halves. When he walks up and down the 
floor at the Psychological Club, expounding a dream to his 
advanced students, every cell and fiber of his physical being 
seems to participate; every resource of his great learning, 
his medical and scientific knowledge, his psychological 
insight, and his native wisdom is turned in a single living 
stream upon the question in hand. This massive, peaceful 
man in blue was putting the same zest and interest into 
washing. No part of Jung was left in Kiisnacht giving 
consultations. 



Doctor Jung's patients must take a little steamboat at a 
landing haunted by gulls and wild ducks, and then walk a 
good ten minutes to a yellow country house standing well 
within walls and gardens on the edge of the lake of Zurich. 3 
They must pull a shining brass bell, of old-fashioned mold, 
and while its fateful ring resounds through the house — as 
obviously a hospitable, family mansion as the other is the 
isolated domain of the creator-scholar — meet the inspection 
of a group of skirmishing dogs. 

Yoggi, the Doctor's special intimate, always manages to 
slide into the upstairs study behind the visitor, to take his 
silent, attentive share in the conversation. I noticed at my 
first interview that Jung's hand— the sensitive, strong hand, 
with the Gnostic ring — reached down now and then to the 
shaggy back. And it came to me that this touch with an 
instinctive hairy being was somehow the riposte to the 

3 At Kiisnacht, near Zurich. 



1931 

psychologist's uncanny intuition, his probing mind, his acute 
awareness — a reassurance to the visitor and to himself. For 
what is one to think of a doctor who, in a hunch of the 
shoulders, a half-glance, a witty phrase casually spoken — 
"you are like an egg without a shell" — can say enough to 
keep one guessing for a week? 

It was comfortable, too, that as he discussed intimate 
problems, his face now very sober and concerned, Jung 
tramped the floor, fed the fire, lighted a meditative pipe: 
common clay and spirit were all one. When he sat stiffly 
in his chair for a moment and gulped down his tea, he 
suddenly turned into a German professor. But when his 
eyes began to twinkle merrily behind their gold-rimmed 
spectacles, when he moved about again, his driving energy 
strongly held in leash, I thought of Theodore Roosevelt. 
"You look more like a stockbroker than a prophet," ex- 
claimed a startled American who had expected to find the 
"mystic" of Freudian report. The actual Jung, solid and vital 
in his middle fifties, humorous and skeptical, refuses to 
stand on a pedestal or to take on any white-bearded Old 
Testament air. "Yes," he agrees with a young lady, "all men 
are liars, certainly. I just let them sit in that chair and lie 
till they get tired of lying. Then they begin to tell the truth." 
One leaves Jung's presence feeling enriched and appeased, 
as by contact with a_pixj£...tree in the forest— a life as much 
below ground as above. 

When, on Wednesday morning at eleven, at certain seasons 
of the Zurich year, Doctor Jung enters the long room at the 
Psychological Club 4 where his Seminar is held, smiling with 
a deep friendliness at this or that face, the brown portfolio 
which he hugs to his side seems to be the repository of this 
joint account — the collective analytical account of a small 
international group whose common interest is the psyche. 



4 In the town of Zurich. 



52 



Doctor Jung: A Portrait 

An involuntary hush falls on the room as Jung himself 
stands quiet and grave for a moment, looking down at his 
manuscript as a sailor might look at his compass, relating it 
to the psychological winds and waves whose impact he has 
felt on his passage from the door. The hush in the assembly 
means not only reverence but intense expectation. What 
world adventure shall we have to-day with this creative 
thinker? What question, like the stroke of a bronze bell, 
will he leave ringing in our minds? What drastic vision of 
our age will he give us that will help us to lose our sense of 
problems, subjective and oppressive, and move into a more 
universal and objective realm? 

By some mystery yet to be explained Doctor Jung man- 
ages within the first five minutes to get vitally on the wire 
of everyone present — American, British, Dutch, German, 
Swiss. He lectures in English or rather in American — a 
language somewhat his own, as American is entitled to be, 
a pungent, witty tongue. Jung is expounding, with few 
references to his notes, the dreams of a cultivated business 
man — a nice, conventional gentleman such as we all know. 
Soon there appears out of the unconscious an "ape man" 
bent on rape and violence. This, or some other hellish "op- 
posite" of the conventional human being, which must be 
recognized and assimilated into the personality before any 
true release of the spirit can be found. After all, perhaps the 
philosophic teacher in the gray suit, who is striding up and 
down (he has no platform, nothing outward to separate him 
from his students) writing Greek or Norse roots on the 
blackboard, drawing diagrams of the heavens, symbols from 
ancient monuments, has a formula. But it is the very old 
one, familiar to the Greek agora: KjzauiJkysdf, Know the 
laws of your own being. Accept them, even if they seem 
paradoxical and incompatible with the views you have 
grown up with. Live them, instead of living the lives of 
your parents and grandparents, your neighbors and pro- 
fessional associates. / 



53 



1931 

This may sound simple. But it is not easy for our friend, 
the business man — whose dreams go on like a detective 
story, full of surprises, discoveries, and unsolved clues, later 
to be worked through — nor for any of this company, though 
it consists of advanced students, medical men and women, 
philosophers, anthropologists, to accept the fierce, instinctive 
elements of the unconscious, the howling savages, the 
"shadow," the evil, that every refined surface conceals. Work 
with Jung is not easy, either in a private interview or in the 
Seminar. It is a challenge, a test, a profound creative effort. 
All that an artist can give an earnest student is a technic — a 
method of work and a vision of what the life of the artist is, 
what it demands of sacrifice and concentration. That, it 
seems to me, is precisely what Doctor Jung gives his stu- 
dents: a {echnic of living and dealing with practical and 
unconscious problems; and a vision of the modern con- 
scious man. 

The technic, in the Seminar, is illustrated through dream 
analysis, which with Jung is a very inclusive thing, that ties 
up mythology and history, Einstein and astrology, modern 
psychology and Chinese wisdom, the Gnostics, Christian 
and Jewish theology, and primitive rites. It includes jour- 
neys with age-old seers into the fearful reaches of the 
collective unconscious and concrete, very human questions 
such as how to make a success of marriage, 5 how to adjust 
those abiding relationships that Doctor Jung believes to be 
quintessential in every life. Like all great speakers, Jung 
jeems to draw his inspiration from the moment; if the 
planes of his face are always changing, as my artist friend 
declares, so that he never looks twice alike, in the same 
way his mind changes its weather, its tempo, producing that 
unexpected nugget of humor or wisdom, or spicy tale of 

5 Sergeant published an "interview" with lung, entitled "Marriage 
Is a Problem — not a Solution," in Hearst's International-Cosmo- 
politan, July 1937. It was in fact an "imagined conversation" between 
a hypothetical patient and Jung, in which he discussed his views on 
marriage and divorce. 

54 









Doctor Jung: A Portrait 

experience, or new psychic vision most calculated to stimu- 
late and enrich his auditors. But he never ceases to be the 
patient and versatile teacher, the discoverer who is always 
sniffing the wind, the leader fully aware of his power and 
responsibility to the little band who are following him into 
unknown country. 

Sometimes with a canny, fiery glance, which one remem- 
bers seeing under African helmets, Jung turns and says: 
"Here is new terrain. Your guess is as good as mine. What 
have you to suggest?" But it is an unwary student who 
gives a slipshod or too rational reply. Purely rational think- 
ing has been discarded in this room, but there is a natural 
scientist in the leader who scans every hasty assumption 
with skepticism. Sconce to Jung is not a god; it is a tool 
that must be used. Analytical Psychology, though it has, 
like the new. painting and the new music, a language of its 
own, new rhythms* new colors, has a very ancient base... It 
is only the student who is beginning to think with both an 
old and a new mind who draws forth from his guide a 

keen, swift look, like a pat on the back: "That's good! 

You're absolutely on the right track! Go ahead!" 



"There was a moment," Doctor Jung said to me, in dis- 
cussing this period of his life, 6 "at the end of Psychology of 
the Unconscious when I put down my pen and thought 
awhile. This book I have written, I said to myself, is the 
hero myth in different form. All peoples and all times had 
tJheirJiero, but who i s our hero? To whom is Christ living? 
Not to me. Then the question almost formulated itself: 
'What is your myth?' There was no answer to this question. 
I repressed it at once, trampled it under. 

His period of collaboration with Freud, 1906-1912. In the latter 
year he published Wandlungen und Symbole der Libido, the book 
that marked his break with Freud; tr. Beatrice M. Hinkle as 
Psychology of the Unconscious (1916). 



55 



1931 



"But it was not for a year and six months after the pub- 
lication of Psychology of the Unconscious" he continued, 
"that I began to be acquainted with my own unconscious. 
The interval was a sort of incubation period, a preparation 
for a whole new period of life. A new wind was blowing, 
for — a very important fact — a new period of life was coming 
on. In the early forties melancholia in men is statistically 
increased. I was obliged, as all men are at this point, to get a 
new orientation in life." 



Jung's books, though "hard reading" for the layman, have, 
like the doctor, some magical incalculability, some gift to 
probe a wound and assuage it in the same breath, some 
power to move us beyond the meaning of the abstract word. 
I can say for myself that, though I read them years before I 
•knew the author in Zurich, I divined in them the same two 
Jungs that I now so clearly see. In the forefront of every 
page a dynamic, thinking, modern man, in whom life, with 
all its diversity, runs clear and strong like a spring; and in 
the background a wise, redeeming figure, a very ancient and 
intuitive man— a sort of gardener, I think, who walks along 
conversing softly with his dog, his hands full of new shoots 
to graft on the tree of life. 



56 



EVERYONE HAS TWO SOULS 



»+»*»♦♦♦*♦»♦♦♦♦»♦ 



Again Jung was invited to lecture at the Kulturbund in Vienna 
in early November 1932, on a subject that is no longer recorded. 
The following interview, "Jeder Mensch hat zwei Seelen," ap- 
peared in the Neues Wiener Journal on November 9, 1932, en- 
tirely in Jung's words. 



My contention that man is born equipped with a highly 
differentiated and fully developed brain with innumerable 
attributes has often met with antagonism. Most people 
continue to believe that everything they have become, every 
reaction of their psychic ego to everyday occurrences, is 
determined by their education and their environment. 

Few people know anything about the ancestral soul and 
even fewer believe in it. Aren't we all the carriers of the 
entire history of mankind? Why is it so difficult to believe 
that each of us has two souls? When a man is fifty years 
old, only one part of his being has existed for half a century. 
The other part, which also lives in his psyche, may be 
millions of years old. Every newborn child has come into 
this world with a fully equipped brain. Although in the 
early stages of life the mind has not gained complete mas- 
tery over the body, it is clearly preconditioned for reacting 
to the outer world — that is, it has the capacity to do so. Such 
mental patterns exert their influence throughout life and 
remain decisive for a person's thinking. The newborn does 
not begin to develop his mental faculties on the first day of 
his life. His mind, a. finished structure, is the result of in- 
numerable lives before his and is far from being devoid of 
content. It is unlikely that we shall ever discover the remote 
past, into which the impersonal psyche of the individual 
reaches. 



57 



1932 

There is no doubt that man's personal psyche develops 
^onlj^ during his lifetime, and that environment and educa- 
tion l are decisive influences in this process. These influences 
become effective from the first days of a child's life. On the 
whole, the receptivity of a small child's brain tends to be 
wioSy underestimated, but the practicing psychologist has 
frequent, evidence to the contrary. With neurotics, one 
constantly comes up against psychic defects .that -date- back 
to very early childhood experiences. It is not a rare occur- 
rence for a somewhat severe reprimand administered to a 
child in his playpen or his bed to affect him during his 
entire life. 

The two souls give rise to frequent contradictions in a 
person's thinking and feeling. Quite often the impersonal 
and the personal psyche are even in direct opposition. There 
are hundreds of examples which demonstrate to the psychol- 
ogist that two souls live in every man. Exercising their 
imagination— which I call the mother of human conscious- 
ness —ma ny of my patients painted" pictures and described 
dreams which displayed a strange conformity with definite 
laws and showed peculiar parallels to Indian and Chinese 
temple, images. Where were these people supposed to have 
obtained knowledge about the ancient temple cultures of 
thfi-Ear-Eastij have treated patients who had visions about 
events which happened hundreds of years ago. All this can 
come only from the unconscious, the impersonal soul,j_the 
finished brain of the newborn] Contemporary man is but 
the latest ripe fruit on the tree of the human race. None of 

U9 knows what we know. 

[Translated by Ruth Horine] 



1 



58 



AN INTERVIEW ON 
RADIO BERLIN 



M M *»l ♦ I * 



On June 21, 1933, Jung accepted the presidency of the fjber- 
staatliche Arztliche Gesellschaft fur Psychotherapie (Interna- 
tional Medical Society for Psychotherapy), which united na- 
tional societies in Denmark, Germany, Great Britain, Holland, 
Sweden, and Switzerland and had its headquarters in Zurich. 
Though Jewish and other anti-Nazi members had been expelled 
.from the German national society, Jung as president enabled 
them to become members of the International Society. Thus 
has Jung's leadership been defended by his followers, while his 
adversaries have attacked his participation in a Society that had 
links with Nazi Germany. The issue has been, and still is, 
warmly debated. 1 A document of the time is an interview with 
Jung by Dr. Adolf Weizsacker, a German neurologist and psy- 
chiatrist who had previously been his pupil. It was recorded 
and broadcast by Radio Berlin on June 26, 1933. On the same 
date Jung began a seminar on dreams, given to a group of 
analytical psychologists in Berlin, which continued for five 
days. Its members included at least four analysts who sub- 
sequently left Nazi Germany; Gerhard Adler, who settled in 
London; and James Kirsch, Hilde Silber (Kirsch), and Max 
Zeller, who settled in Los Angeles, California. 2 A transcript of 

1 Jung's statements and speeches as president of the Society and its 
various international congresses and editor of its organ, Zentralblatt 
fur Psychotherapie und ihre Grenzgebiete (Leipzig), are printed in 
an appendix to CW 10. For historical accounts, see Ernest Harms, 
"Carl Gustav Jung — Defender of Freud and the Jews," Psychiatric 
Quarterly (Utica, N. Y.), April 1946, and Aniela Jaffe, "C. G. Jung 
and National Socialism," in her From the Life and Wor\ of C. G. 
Jung, tr. R.F.C. Hull (New York, 1971). Also see Jung's letter to 
James Kirsch, 26 May 1934, in Letters, ed. Adler, vol. 1, and below, 
"On the Attack in the Saturday Review of Literature," pp. I92ff. 

2 For a firsthand account of the seminar by another of its mem- 
bers and a discussion of Jung's "dim view of the new government 
and the prospects for Germany" during that visit to Berlin, see 



59 



1933 

the lectures that Jung gave in the seminar and of the radio 
interview has long been extant in mimeographed form. 



Today we have particular pleasure in welcoming to our 
studio the most progressive psychologist of modern times, 
Dr. Carl Gustav Jung of Zurich. Dr. Jung is at present in 
Berlin giving a course of lectures, and he has kindly ex- 
pressed his willingness to answer a number of questions 
bearing on contemporary problems. From this you will see 
that there is a school of modern psychology which is funda- 
mentally constructive. We all know very well that psychol- 
ogy and analysis for their own sakes have rightly become 
suspect nowadays. We are tired of this continual probing 
and breaking down along intellectual lines, and it is fortu- 
nate for us that there is one psychologist who approaches the 
human psyche in an entirely different way from the other 
well \nown psychologies or psychotherapies , especially 
Freudian psychoanalysis. Dr. Jung comes from a Protestant 
parsonage in Basel. That is important. It puts his whole 
approach to man on a different footing from that of Freud 
and Adler. The crucial thing about this psychology is that 
Dr. Jung does not tear to pieces and destroy the immediacy 
of our psychic life, the creative element which has always 
played the decisive role in the history of the German mind, 
but approaches it with deep reverence and does not devalue 
it, letting himself be guided in the practical treatment of 
conflicts or neuroses by the positive and constructive forces 
which lie dormant in the unconscious psychic life of every 
man and cm be awakened. Hence his psychology is not 
intellectual but is imbued with vision; it seeks to strengthen 
the positive forces in man and does not stop at triumphantly 
laying bare the negative elements, since that brings nothing 



Barbara Hannah, Jung: His Life and Work (New York, 1976), 
pp. 209-213. 

60 



An Interview on Radio Berlin 



really new into the life of the individual or of the com- 
munity. Permit me now, Dr. Jung, to put a number of 
questions to you and to ask V ou to answer them, which you 
can as a Swiss, with a certain detachment, and as a psychol- 
ogist, with great experience of the human psyche. I would 
like to ask y ou > fi rst > whether there is in your psychological 
experience a decisive difference between the psychic situa- 
tion of the Germans and that of Western Europeans}, and 
wherein this difference consists? The fact of the matter is 
that we are at the moment surrounded by the deepest mis- 
understandings, and it would interest us to hear, quite 
briefly, what you think might be the cause of these mis- 
understandings, and whether the differences between our 
nature and theirs are so great as to make these misunder- 
standings comprehensible to us. 

There is indeed an enormous difference between the 
psychic attitude of the Germans and that of Western Euro- 
peans. The nationalism that Western. Europeans know 
seems to them a kind of chauvinism, and they cannot 
understand how it is that in Germany it has become a 
nation-building force, because nationalism for them still 
means their own brand of chauvinism. This peculiarity of 
the Germans can be explained only by the youthfulness of 
the German nation. Their enthusiasm for the reconstruction 
of the German community remains incomprehensible to 
Western Europeans because this necessity no longer exists 
for them in the same degree, since they achieved national 
unity in earlier centuries and in other forms. 

Yes, and now I would li\e to ask a second question which 
is extraordinarily important for us, because the new turn of 
events in Germany is being led by the younger generation. 
How do you explain the assurance of German youth in 
pursuit of their visionary goal, and what is the significance 
of the fact that the older generation cannot quite rid them- 
selves of a kind of reserve even though they would very 

61 



1933 



much like simply to affirm what is happening? What in 
your view should be done in order to bridge over this hope- 
less gulf between the generations, which deepens still further 
the cleavage in our German nationhood? What is the cause 
of it all? 

The assurance of German youth in pursuit of their goal 
seems something quite natural to me. In times of tremen- 
dous movement and change it is only to be expected that 
youth will seize the helm, because they alone have the 
daring and drive and sense of adventure. After all, it's their 
future that's at stake^Jt is their venture and thejr experi- 
ment. The older generation naturally takes a back place 
and they should possess enough experience of life to be 
able to go along with this necessary course of events. They 
too had their time, once. The gulf between the older and 
younger generation is due precisely to the fact that the older 
generation did not go along with the times and, instead of 
foreseeing it, was overtaken by the storm of a new epoch. 
But that is not by any means specific of the Germans. It is 
something you can observe in all countries at the present 
time. The older generation have immense difficulty in find- 
ing their way about in a new world. Political changes go 
hand in hand with all sorts of other changes in art, philos- 
ophy, in our religious views. Everywhere the wind of 
change is blowing. And I comeygry much into contact with 
people of the older generation who have confessed to me 
that they have little real understanding of the new time and 
the utmost. difficulty in finding their way ._ about. Many of 
t¥em even turn directly to me for advice r . for with^ a little 
psychology one can understand these things. With a little 
Biological knowledge, too, it would halE3eenj>ossible 
to foresee the changes. But the older generation has, I am 
bound to say, committed the unforgivable, mistake .of over- 
looking the real man in favor of an abstract idea of man. 
This error hangs together with the false intellectualism 
that 'characterized the whole nineteenth century. 



62 



An Interview on Radio Berlin 

Than\ you, Dr. Jung. We have now heard something of 
your attitude to the more general problems of the situation 
as a whole. I would like now to as1{ some more specific 
questions about your psychology. What in your view is the 
position of psychology in general at the present day? What 
is its tas\ in such a time of activity? 

It is just because we live in an active and responsible time 
that we need more consciousness and self -reflection. In a 
time like ours, when tremendous political and social move- 
ments are afoot, I as a psychologist am very often turned 
to, as I have said, by people who feel the need for psychic 
orientation. This need reflects a sound instinct. When 
general confusion reigns, as it does in Europe today, when 
there is a widespread splintering of opinions, there instinc- 
tively arises in us a need £01/ a common Weltanschauung}, I 
would say, which allows us to take a unitary view of things 
and discern the inner meaning of the whole movement. If 
we do not succeed in getting this view, it may easily happen 
that we are as it were unconsciously swept along by events. 
For mass movements have the peculiarity of overpowering 
{hejndiyldual by. mass suggestion and making him un- 
conscious. The political or social movement gains nothing 
by this when it has swarms of hypnotized camp followers. 
On the contrary there is the danger of equally great disil- 
lusion on awaking from the hypnosis. It is therefore of the 
greatest value for mass movements to possess adherents who 
.follow not from unconscious compulsion but from con- 
scious conviction. But this conscious conviction can be based 
only on a Weltanschauung. 

And you thinks, if I understand you correctly, that such a 
Weltanschauung can in certain cases best be acquired with 
the help of psychology — your psychology — so that people 
can stand firm inwardly in order to work successfully and 
surely in the outer world, because otherwise their uncon- 
scious impulses, moods, and I don't know what, can obtrude 



63 



? f 



1933 

themselves in their outward activities. You see, the fact is 
that in Germany today psychology is suspect in many, .quar- 
ters precisely because it is concerned with the self-develop- 
ment of the so-called individual, and so they suspect this 
famous parlor individualism or individualism de luxe of 
belonging to an age which is now really over for us. So 1 
would li\e to ask you: How, just at the present time, when 
the collective forces of the whole community have taken 
the lead in molding our way of life, how are we to assess 
the efforts of psychology in the practical role it would have 
to play for the whole of life and the whole community? 

The self-development of the individual is especially neces- 
sary in our time. When the individual is unconscious of 
himself, the collective movement too lacks a clear sense of 
purpose. Only the self-development of the individual, which 
I consider to be the supreme goal of all psychological en- 
deavor, can produce consciously responsible spokesmen and 
leaders of the collective movement. As Hitler said recently, 
the leader must be. able to be alone and must have the 
courage to go his own way. But if he doesn't know himself, 
how is he to lead others? That is why^the true leader is 
always one who has the courage to be himself, and can look 
not only others in the eye but above all himself. 

Now I come to something quite specific. What difference- 
though I have already stressed this a little at the beginning— 
what difference is there between a psychology like yours, 
imbued with vision, and the psychologies of Freud and 
Adler, which are built entirely on an intellectual basis? 

It is, you see, one of the finest privileges of the German 
mind to let the whole of creation, in all its inexhaustible 
diversity, work upon it without preconceptions. _But_ with 
Freud as well as with Adler a particular individual stand- 
point—for instance, sexuality or the striving for power— is 
set up as a critique against the totality of the phenomenal 
world, In this way a part of the phenomenon is isolated 

64 



An Interview on Radio Berlin 

jrom the whole aad.hrokea. down into smaller and smaller 
fragments, until the sense, that dwells only in the whole is 
distorted into nonsense, and the beauty that is proper only 
to the. whole is_ reduced to _ absurdity. I could never take 
kindly to this hostility to life. 

/ am particularly grateful to you, Dr. Jung, for that answer. 
I think '* W 'M act on many of us like a liberation. In con- 
clusion, I still have a question that is of particular concern 
to us today, and that is the question of leadership. From 
your psychological experience, have you anything to say 
about the idea of personal leadership and of a leading elite 
that is now acknowledged in Germany, in contradistinction 
to an elected government dependent on the opinion of the 
masses as evolved in Western Europe? 

Today we are living in a time of barbarian invasions, but 
they take place inwardly in the psyche of the people. It is a 
breaking of the nations. Times of mass, rriovement are al- 
ways times of leadership. Every movement culminates 
organically in a leader, who embodies in his whole being 
the meaning and purpose of the popular movement, He is 
jm incarnation of the nation's psyche and its mouthpiece. He 
is the spearhead of the phalanx of the whole people in 
motion. The need of the whole always calls forth a leader, 
regardless of the form a state may take. Only in times of 
aimless quiescence does the aimless conversation of parlia- 
mentary deliberations drone on, which always demonstrates 
the absence of a stirring in the depths or of a definite emer- 
gency; even the most peaceable government in Europe, the 
Swiss Bundesrat, is in times of emergency invested with 
extraordinary powers, democracy or no democracy. It is 
perfectly natural that a leader should stand at the head of an 
elite, which in earlier centuries was formed by the nobility. 
The^nobiUty -believgj^ the law of the ^ nat ure in the_ blood 
jmd exclusiyeness of the race. Western Europe doesn't 
understand the special psychic emergency of the young 

65 



1933 



German nation because it does not find itsdl.in_the..5aine 
situation either historically or psychologically. 

Thanks you, Dr. Jung, for answering these questions so 
readily, and also for the gist of your answers, which will 
surely be of the greatest import for many of our listeners. 
The fact is that we are living today in a phase of reconstruc- 
tion where everything depends on inwardly consolidating 
what has been achieved and building it into the psyche of 
the individual. For this purpose we need, if I may express 
my personal opinion, leaders li\e you, who really kjiow 
something about the psyche, the German psyche, and whose 
psychology is not just intellectual chatter but a living 
knowledge of human beings. 



66 



DOES THE WORLD STAND ON 

THE VERGE OF 

SPIRITUAL REBIRTH? 



HMIMI I II II MII I M I MI 



Hearst's International-Cosmopolitan for April 1934 carried this 
article "by C. G. Jung," with the subheading, "A famous ultra- 
modern psychologist finds that the supreme need of man's spirit 
is met by the ancient spirit of Easter." It was illustrated with 
drawings of an inspirational character by Harold von Schmidt. 
Jung, however, wrote to an American correspondent on April 
21, 1934: "By the way, my so-called article in the Cosmopolitan 
Magazine was an interview with a reporter and not an article 
written by myself. I have not even seen a copy of it." The name 
of the reporter and the occasion of the interview have not been 
discovered. The same article, with minor variations (and an 
additional paragraph, marked with an asterisk, on p. 74), was 
published under the title "The Soul of Modern Man" in a 
digest-type magazine, The Modern Thinner (New York), Au- 
gust 1 934. /In the present version, excessive emphatic italics have 
been eliminated.! 



This is what theologians for several centuries have been 
crying for; what many of them have professed to see 
through the fog of doubts, disillusion and despair, like a 
star glowing in the high heavens. 

I am not a theologian; I am a doctor, a psychologist. But 
as a doctor, I have had experience with thousands of 
persons from all parts of the world — those who came to tell 
me the stories of their lives, their hopes, their fears, their 
achievements, their failures. I have studied carefully their 
psychology, which is, and which must be, my guide. 

67 



1934 

Out of my experience with those thousands of patients, 
I have" become convinced that the psychological problem of 
today is a spiritual problem, a religious problem^Man 
today hungers and thirsts for a safe relationship to the 
psychic Forces within himself. His consciousness, recoiling 
from the difficulties of the modern world, lacks a relation- 
ship to safe spiritual conditions. This makes him neurotic, 
ill, frightened. Science has told him that there is no God, 
and that matter is all there is. This haidepriyed^humanity 
of ks blossom, its feeling of well-being and of safety in a 
sjrfeworld. 

As modern man is driven back upon himself by doubt 
and fear, he looks inward to his own psychic life to give 
him something of which his outer life has deprived him. 
In view of 'the present widespread interest in all sorts of 
psychic phenomena— an interest such as the world has not 
experienced since the last half of the seventeenth century- 
it does not seem beyond the range of possibility to believe 
that we stand on the threshold of a new spiritual epoch; 
and that from the depths of man's own psychic life new 
spiritual forms will be born. 

Look at the world about us, and what do we see? The 
disintegration of many religions. It is generally admitted 
that the churches are not holding the people as they did, 
particularly educated people, who do not feel any longer 
that they are redeemed by a system of theology. The same 
thing is seen in the old established religions of the East- 
Confucianism and Buddhism. Half the temples in Peking 
are empty. In our Western world millions of people do not 
go to church. Protestantism alone is broken up into four 
hundred denominations. 

Contrast this state of life and thought with that of the 
Middle Ages. In those centuries almost everyone went to 
Mass every morning. The whole life was lived within the 
church, which became a tremendous outlet of psychic 
energy. 

68 



The World on the Verge of Spiritual Rebirth? 

Instead, we have today an intricate and complicated life 
full of mechanical devices for living. A life crowded with 
motor cars and radios and motion pictures. But none of 
these things is a substitute for what we have lost. Religion 
gjyes_ us a rich application for our feelings. It gives meaning 
to lifer 

Man in the Middle Ages lived in a meaningful world. He 
knew that God had made _ the world for a definite purpose; 
had made him for a definite purpose — to get to heaven, or 
to get to hell. It made sense, Today the world in which all 
of us live is a madhouse. This is what many people are 
feeling. Some of those people come to me to tell me so. 

All that energy which was the origin of the rich blossom 
of man's emotional life during: the_ Middle Ages, and which 
found expression in. the. painting of great religious pictures, 
the carving of great religious statues, the building of the 
great cathedrals, has gone flat^It is not lost, because it is a 
jaw that energy cannot be lostj 

Then what has become of ft? Where has it gone? The 
answer is that it is in man's unconscious. It may be said to 
have fallen down into a lower storey. 

Take the example of a business man — successful, rich, not 
yet old. He is perhaps forty-five. He says, "I have made my 
fortune; I have sons who are old enough to carry on the 
business which I founded. I will retire. I will build a fine 
house in the country and live there without any cares and 
worries." So he retires. He builds his house and goes to live 
in it. He says to himself, "Now my life will begin." 

But nothing happens. 

One morning he is in his bath. He is conscious of a pain 
in his side. All day he worries about it; wonders what it can 
be. When he goes to the table he does not eat. In a few days 
his digestion is out of order. In a fortnight he is very ill. The 
doctors he has called in do not know what is the matter 
with him. Finally one of them says to him : "Your life lacks 
interest. Go back to your business. Take it up again." 

69 



\X 



1 



1934 

The man is intelligent, and this advice seems to him 
sound. He decides to follow it. He goes back to his office 
and sits down at his old desk and declares that now he will 
help his sons in the management. But when the first busi- 
ness letter is brought to him, he cannot concentrate on it. 
He cannot make the decisions it calls for. Now he is terribly 
frightened about his condition. 

You see what happened. He couldn't go back. It was 
already too late. But his energy is still there, and it must be 

used. 

This man comes to me with his problem. I say to him: 
"You were quite right to retire from business. But not into 
nothingness. You must have something you can stand on. 
In all the years in which you devoted your energy to build- 
ing up your business you never built up any interests outside 
of it. You had nothing to retire on." 

This is a picture of the condition of man today. This is 
why we feel that there is something wrong with the world. 
All the material interests, the automobiles and radios and 
skyscrapers we have, don't fill the hungry soul. We try to 
retire from the world, but to what? Some try to go back to 
the churches. A few are able to do this. But many are not 
finding this entirely satisfactory. They are like the business 
man who tried to go back to his desk. 

And these people come to me, asking me to help them to 
find a meaning in their lives. What shall I tell them? 

Among them comes a man who is only slightly neurotic. 
He says to me: "I am not really very sick. Perhaps I should 
not be here at all taking up your time. But I know you are 
busy with the human mind. I thought, therefore, that you 
might be able to tell me on what terms I may live. I have the 
feeling of being forlorn and lonely in a world that makes no 

sense." 

I say to him: "My dear man, I don't know any more 
than you do the meaning of the world or the meaning of 
your life. But you— all men— were born with a brain ready- 

70 



The World on the Verge of Spiritual Rebirth? 

made. It took millions of years to build the brain and the 
body we now have. Your brain embodies all the experience 
of life. The psyche, which may be called the life of the 
brain, existed before consciousness existed in the little child. 

"Now, suppose that I am in need of advice about living, 
and I know of a man who is already thousands of years 
old. I go to him and say, 'You have seen many changes; 
you have observed and experienced life under many aspects. 
My life is short — perhaps seventy years, perhaps less — and 
you have lived for thousands of years. Tell me the meaning 
of life for me.' " 

When I say this to my patient, he cocks his ears and 
looks at me. 

"No," I say, "I am not that man. But that man speaks to 
you every night. How? In your dreams." 

I go on: "You are in trouble. You feel that your life has 
no orientation. I cannot tell you what to do. But let us ask 
the Great Old Man. He will tell you. Go away for a few 
days, and you will have a dream. Come back and tell me 
about it." 

He goes away; he comes back and brings me a dream. It 
is difficult to work out. But we do work it out together, and 
it tells us something about him. 

Certain people lose connection with life because they have 
mjde_ mistakes, or because they are living the wrong way, in 
.ajife that is intellectual only. The dreams they bring to a 
psychologist will take up these things first. 

All dreams reveal spiritual experiences, provided one does 
not apply one's own point of view to the interpretation of ' 
them. Freud says that all man's longings expressed in his 
dreams relate to sexuality. It is true that man is a being with 
sex. But he is also a being with a stomach and a liver. As 
well say that because he has a liver all his troubles come 
from that one organ. 

Primitive man has little difficulty with sex. The fulfill- 
ment of his sexual desires is too easy to constitute a problem. 



7i 



1934 



What concerns primitive man — and I have lived among 
primitives, and Freud has not— is his food: where he is to 
get it, and enough of it. 
Civilized man in his dreams reveals his spiritual need. 
When modern science disinfected heaven it did not find 
God. Some scientists say that the resurrection of Jesus, the 
virgin birth, the miracles— all those things which fed Chris- 
tian thought through ages, are pretty stories, but none the 
less untrue. But what I say is, Do not overlook the fact that 
these ideas which millions of men carried with them 
through generations are gr eat et ernal psychological truths. 
Let us look at this truth as the psychologist sees it. Here 
is the mind of man, without prejudice, spotless, untainted, 
symbolized by a virgin. And that virgin mind of man can 
give birth to God himself. 

"The kingdom of heaven is within you." This is a great 
psychological truth. Christianity is a beautiful system of 
psychotherapy. It heals the suffering of the soul. 

This is the truth which man has clung to through the 

ages. Even after his consciousness has listened too long at 

the door of modern materialistic science, he clings to it in his 

unconscious. The old symbols are good today. They fit our 

minds as well as they fitted the minds that conceived them. 

Deep in the unconscious of each one of us are all the 

; attempts of that Great Old Man to express his spiritual 

j experiences. 

'"■ Suppose I ask you to stay in my house. I tell you that it is 
well built, comfortable; that our life is pleasant; that you 
will have good food. You can swim in the lake and walk 
in the garden. With these beliefs in your mind you decide 
to come, and you enjoy your stay. But suppose, when I ask 
you, I say to you: "This house is unsafe. The foundations 
are not secure. We have many earthquakes in this region. 
Besides all that, we have had illness here. Someone recently 
died of tuberculosis in this room." Under those conditions 



72 



The World on the Verge of Spiritual Rebirth? 

and with these ideas in your mind, do you enjoy your stay 
in that house? 

That medieval man we have talked of had a beautiful 
relationship with God. He lived in a safe world, or one 
that he believed to be safe. God looked out for everyone in 
it; he rewarded the good and punished the bad. There was 
the church where the man could always get forgiveness and 
grace. He had only to walk there to receive it. His prayers 
were heard. He was spiritually taken care of. 

But what is modern man told? Science has told him that 
there is no one taking care of him. And so he is full of fear. 

For a time, after we gave up that medieval God, we had 
gold for a deity. But now that, too, has been declared in- 
competent. We trusted in armies, but the threat of poison 
gas defeated them. Already people talk about the next war. 
In Berlin they have built dugouts under the streets for re- 
treat from poison gas attacks. If they go on talking in this 
way, thinking this way, the next war will explode of itself. 

Naturally enough, in a world of this sort, everybody gets 
neurotic. Even if the house you live in is really safe, if you 
have the idea that it is not, you will suffer. Your reaction 
depends entirely on what you think. 

In making this point to my students, I say : "How do you 
measure a thing? By its effects. And usually by its terrible 
effects. An avalanche occurs which wipes away a dozen 
farms, kills scores of cows, and you say, An elephant of an 
avalanche!' Now, tell me, what is the most destructive thing 
you know of?" 

In turn we consider fire, earthquakes, volcanic eruptions, 
floods, diseases. 

Then I say, "Can you think of nothing more terrible than 
any of these things? What about the World War?" 

Ah, yes! High explosives. 

"But," I say, "do high explosives make themselves? Do 
they declare war and march to war? Do they bring the men 
with them?" 

73 



1934 



The World on the Verge of Spiritual Rebirth? 



It is the psyche of man that makes wars. Not his con- 
sciousness. His consciousness is afraid, butjhis unconscious, 
which contains the inherited savagery as weU as the spiritual 
strivings of the racej says to him, "Now it is time to make 
wan Now is the time to kill and destroy." And he does it. 

The most tremendous danger that man has to face is the 
power of his ideas. No cosmic power on earth ever destroyed 
ten million men in four years. But man's psyche did it. And 
|t can dp it again. 

I am afraid of one thing only — the thoughts of people. I 
have means of defence against things. 

I live here in my house happily with my family. But sup- 
pose they get the illusion that I am a devil. Can I be happy 
with them then? Can I be safe? All of us are subject to mass 
infections. > 

jMass infection si are greater than man. And man is their 
victim. He shouts and parades and pretends that he is the 
leader, but really he is their victim. They are the uprush 
of earthly and spiritual forces from the depth of the psyche. 

Turn the eye of consciousness within to see what is there. 
Let us see what we can do in small ways. If I have planted 
a cabbage right, then I have served the world in that place. 
I do not know what more I can do. 

Examine the spirits that speak in you. Become critical. 
The modern man must be fully conscious of the terrific 
dangersjthat lie in mass movements. Listen to what the 
unconscious says. Hearken to the voice of that Great Old 
Man within you who has lived so long, who has seen and 
e xpe rienced so much. Try to understand Mthe will of God: 
the remarkably potent force of the psyche, j 

* It is all there. The kingdom of heaven is within you. 
This is a great psychological truth. Christianity is a beautiful 
system of psychotherapy. It heals the suffering of the soul. 

I say : Go slow. Go slow. With every good there comes a 
corresponding evil, and with every evil a corresponding 



i 



good. Don't run too fast into one unless you are prepared 
to encounter the other. 

I am not concerned about the world. I am concerned 
about the people with whom I live. The other world is all 
in the newspapers. My family and my neighbors are my 
life — the only life that I can experience. What lies beyond is 
newspaper mythology. Itjsnor of vast importance that I 
make a career or achieve great things for myself. What is 
important and. meaningful to my life is that I shall live as 
fully as possible to fulfil the divine will within me. 

This task gives me so much to do that I have no time 
forjiny other. Let me point out that if we were all to live in 
that. way jy.e would. need no armies, no police, no diplo- 
macy, no politics, no banks. We would have a meaningful 
Jife and not j^vhatwg have now— -madness. 

What nature asks of the apple-tree is that it shall bring 
forth apples, and of the. pear-tree that it shall bring forth 
.pears. Nature wants me to be simply man. But a man 
conscious of what I am, and of what I am doing. God seeks 
Consciousness_in^man,_This is the truth of the birth and the 
resurrection of Christ within. As more and more thinking 
men come to it, this is the spiritual rebirth of the world. 
Christ, the logos — that is to say, the mind, the understand- 
ing, shining into the darkness. Christ was a new truth about 
man. 

Mankind has no existence. I exist, you exist. But mankind 
is_pnly a word. Be what God means you to be; don't worry 
about mankindijn worrying about mankind, which doesn't 
exist, you are avoiding looking at what does exist — the self.] 
You are like a man who leans over his neighbor's fence and 
says to him: "Look, there is a weed. And over there is an- 
other one. And why don't you hoe the rows deeper? And 
why don't you tie up your vines?" And all the while, his 
own garden, behind him, is full of weeds. / 



r i 



74 



75 



FROM CHARLES BAUDOUIN'S 
JOURNAL: 1934 



t I t I M M I * « M « M MM »« 



Charles Baudouin (i 893-1 963), professor in the University of 
Geneva, was founder there of the Institut de Psychagogie, 
whose patrons were Freud, Adler, and Jung and whose pro- 
gram was correspondingly catholic. Eventually, Baudouin asso- 
ciated himself with the school of analytical psychology as an 
analyst, teacher, and writer. His posthumous book L'Oeuvre de 
Jung (1963) contains, in a chapter entided "Jung, homme 
concret," a number of passages from Baudouin's journal, re- 
porting his, encounters with Jung over more than twenty years. 
The earliest one was written after Baudouin attended a seminar 
that Jung gave to the Societe de Psychologie in Basel, October 
1-6, I934- 1 That version, slighdy abridged, was translated and 
published as "Jung, the Concrete Man" in the Friends annual 
Inward Light (Washington), fall-winter, 1975-76. It is further 
abridged here. (For other extracts see pp. 146, 190, 235, 365.) 



Basel, Sunday, October 7, 1934 
It is time to assemble the impressions which Jung's per- 
sonality has left upon me during these few days, to bind 
the sheaf, to present the portrait. A standing portrait, em- 
phatically, for I see him on his feet, talking and teaching. 
The word "stature" is what springs to mind, or the German 
word "Gestalt." This is no man of study or office; this is a 
force. 

One of the anecdotes with which he bespangles his lec- 
tures stands out for me. I hope I shall not do it an injustice 

1 Published, somewhat adapted, in L'Homme a la decouverte de 
son dme (Geneva, 1944), edited by Roland Cahen-Salabelle. Jung 
included much of the same material in his Tavistock Lectures, given 
in London, Sept. 30-Oct. 4, 1935 (in CW 18). 

76 



From Charles Baudouin's Journal 

by repeating it from memory. He had been living with a 
tribe of Pueblo Indians 2 where, to identify a stranger, they 
do not ask for his passport, but they ask themselves, "What 
animal is this?" That is to say, "Of what totem is he?" and 
they watch him, for to belong to a totem is to be the totem; 
so strong is the "participation," and the sacred animal has 
so impregnated the man, that one has but to look at him 
walk and act and live to recognize him. When the man is 
from a neighboring tribe, the game is easy enough, ap- 
parently; but with a white man, so different from all one 
knows, it is another matter. Jung knew, from his interpreter, 
of his hosts' embarrassment at having failed to identify him. 
However, he won their hearts sufficiently for them to invite 
him one day — a sign of confidence and welcome — to visit 
the upper story of the house. This meant climbing a ladder. 
But while the Indians mount with their backs to the ladder 
and with the agility of monkeys, he naturally climbed in 
European fashion, facing the ladder, setting his feet de- 
liberately on the rungs and presenting to the onlookers his 
square, powerful back. A great clamor broke out then 
among the Indians, which he later had explained to him. 
On seeing him mount that way, they had recognized his 
totem: the bear! the bear! 

He had the wit to enter into the spirit of the thing, and 
his understanding of "primitives" was advanced enough for 
him to feel all the seriousness of it. Substantially, he told 
them: "Yes, you have guessed aright; the bear is the totem 
of my country; it has given its name to our capital, Bern; 
it figures in the coat of arms of the city." And on his return 
to Switzerland he sent them, as evidence and as a souvenir, 
a little wooden bear such as we carve over here. He received 
in return and as a pledge of friendship, if I remember right- 
ly, a pair of leather breeches. 

2 See above, p. xiv. Jung was at the Taos Pueblo for a day or two 
in 1925. 



77 



1934 



These last days, telling us about the tribes, the spirits of the 
forest, that other world of mystery that comes alive suddenly 
at nightfall, he has been more like the sorcerer penetrated 
by the spirits he talks about, skilled at evoking them and 
making their disquieting presence hover above the suspense- 
ful audience. Then, all of a sudden, a good story will release 
the tension with a well-placed laugh. His is a compact force 
that is fed by a substantial sum of human experience and 
flows back to him as though multiplied by the response of 
his own tribe, this circle of disciples from both continents 
who surround and sustain him. Unkind gossip has accused 
these disciples and auditors of snobbery. To be sure there is 
some of it, as there was around the courses which Bergson 
gave at the College de France; which is no argument 
against Bergson, nor yet against Jung. But when someone 
raised the objection that a majority of his disciples were 
women, Jung is said to have replied: "What's to be done? 
Psychology is after all the science of the soul, and it is not 
my fault if the soul is a woman." A jest; but for anyone who 
has followed his teaching, a jest which is itself charged 
with experience, and behind which one sees arising in all 
its ambiguous splendor the archetype of the anima. 



Observing him, seeing him teach and then relax in a more 
intimate circle, I registered during this week in Basel many 
aspects of his being and appearance, many disparate ex- 
pressions. Under the high forehead of the thinker, the planes 
of his face are firm and full; the gray eyes seem suddenly 
curiously small and made for gimlet scrutiny; at other 
moments they are chiefly mischievous, and the face becomes 
that of a confessor-accomplice, a priest who enjoys life, sud- 
denly red in the face with a hearty laugh; but the profile 
then calls one to order— it is much more serious, angular, 
and marks the top-level intellectual. 



78 



From Charles Baudouin's Journal 

But watching him live, one perceives that these disparate 
expressions are organized into a coherent whole. One feels 
that he denies none of them, that being and appearance (the 
self and the persona) have found their modus vivendi, that 
his teaching about "integrating all the functions" to form a 
totality is not book knowledge but lived, which amounts to 
affirming that he belongs not only among the scholars but 
among the sages. 

I knew Jung from his books and I had met him per- 
sonally. But during this week passed in his company I feel 
I have discovered him. To tell the truth, I have made two 
discoveries. First of all, I have been struck by the strongly 
concrete character of this man and of his thinking. Secondly, 
I have realized all he owes to his mingling with the "primi- 
tives"; those journeys have not been picturesque accidents in 
his life; they are among the nutritive substances of his 
thought. I would add that these two points are intimately 
connected. 

The concreteness stands out every moment from his way 
of expounding ideas, laying emphasis on the facts, his ges- 
tures sober and restrained but felt to be charged with energy 
and asking only to go ahead uncurbed. This is especially 
visible when he describes one of his African scenes; in fact 
he acts it out in abbreviated form, he makes it visible. There 
was that anecdote to illustrate the fact that primitives do not 
know will-power in the sense that we understand it; they 
must first mobilize the needful energy for an action and this 
is the purpose served by certain precise incantatory rituals. 
For example, the boy who is charged with carrying the mail 
to town (who knows how many leagues away!) remains 
passively sitting when the European quietly asks him to 
perform this service and offers to reward him; it is as if he 
did not understand. But the sorcerer passes by, takes the 
case in hand— and the whip too! — starts dancing the "run- 
ning dance" around the boy; the tribe joins in, the boy is 



79 



1934 

drawn into the circle and finally, as if shot from a sling, is 
off; and he runs at that! All was reproduced before us; we 
saw it. 

But this play of gesture to demonstrate and explain flour- 
ishes yet more freely in familiar conversation. We were 
speaking one evening of "telepathic" dreams where, between 
persons who are emotionally close, a mutual unconscious 
communication and penetration appears to take place. Jung 
finally, to sum up his thoughts on the matter, acted them 
out as follows: with brief, firm gestures he touched first my 
forehead, then his own, and thirdly drew a great circle 
with his hand in the space between us; the three motions 
underscored the three clauses of this statement; "In short, 
one doesn't dream here, and one doesn't dream here, one 
dreams there." And there the hand kept turning, like the 
above-mentioned sling and the idea, like the messenger, was 
launched. 

I have said that this concreteness is tied up with Jung's 
African experience. I came to see that he had a feeling of 
concreteness about the soul; when he entitles a book Wir\- 
lichkeit der Seele 3 (Reality of the Soul) it is no vain ex- 
pression. To be sure, he had been convinced by his patients 
of this concrete aspect of the things of the psyche, but cer- 
tainly the "primitives" brought him into touch with it in a 
closer and more convincing way, for this is how they feel. 
When he was telling me the other day, at Dr. von Sury's, 4 
about these "ancestral spirits," which fall upon one on return 
to one's birthplace, and which he himself feels whenever he 
returns to Basel, I recognized that these "spirits" had 
weight, like the atmosphere during a thunderstorm. And 
when he was led by this reflection to study, on the wall, the 
genealogical tree of the von Sury family, I realized how he 

3 Published in Zurich the same year, 1934. It contained nine 
papers, later distributed throughout the CW. 

4 Kurt von Sury, M.D., of Basel, who joined with Jung and others 
to form the Swiss Society for Practical Psychology in January 1934. 

80 



From Charles Baudouin's Journal 

felt those roots digging down and holding fast in an earth 
that was real and solid. 



This concreteness of Jung's was part of his make-up. In his 
childhood recollections he tells us of the torments he went 
through over mathematics, especially over algebraic ab- 
stractions, which he found incomprehensible. To make 
sense out of them, he had to put back numbers in place of 
letters. The simple equation a = b infuriated him and 
seemed a rank deception: since a is one thing and b is an- 
other, it is a lie to say they are equal. If this was an inborn 
disposition of his mind, it could not but be reinforced and 
justified in his eyes by his fertilizing contacts with "primi- 
tive mentality." The academic mind expected a mapmaker; 
and it finds itself face to face with an explorer who emerges 
from the brush armed, weighed down, and solidly swathed 
in magnificent vines and creepers, trailing with him all the 
odors of the forest. 

[ Translated by Elined Prys Kotschnig] 



81 



VICTORIA OCAMPO 
PAYS JUNG A VISIT 



III II MMHMtMHMI I 



The distinguished Argentine writer, publisher, and translator 
Victoria Ocampo had apparently not met Jung before the en- 
counter with him, in 1934, that she describes in this extract 
from an article in La Nation (Buenos Aires), March 5, 1936. 
Earlier, however, she had arranged to have Jung's Psycholog- 
ical Types translated into Spanish by Ramon Gomez de la 
Serna; it was published in Buenos Aires late in 1934, and for it 
Jung had written a special foreword, dated October 1934 (in- 
cluded in CW 6). Jung, for his part, was acquainted with Vic- 
toria Ocampo's personality through numerous references to her 
in letters written to him by Count Hermann Keyserling, who, in 
a letter in November 1929, described a "strangely intense and 
at the same time unreal relationship" that had developed be- 
tween them during his travels in South America. Some of 
Jung's letters to Keyserling that discuss the relationship are 
published in Letters, edited by Gerhard Adler, vol. 1, Dec. 20, 
1929, April 23, 1931, and August 13, 1931. (The first part of 
Victoria Ocampo's 1936 article discussed ideas provoked by 
Psychological Types. The entire article was collected in Dom- 
ingos en Hyde Par\, 1936, a volume in Ocampo's Testi- 
monios.) 



In October of 1934, on my return from Rome to Paris, I 
made a detour and stopped in Zurich to see the author of 
Psychological Types. It was pouring rain that afternoon 
when in Kiisnacnt my taxi dropped me, armed with an 
umbrella, and disarmed by contradictory emotions, before 
Dr. Jung's door. Was it because of the long hours on the 
train, the sudden change of temperature, the rain, the prox- 
imity of the great man? I don't know. The fact is that I 

82 



Victoria Ocampo Pays Jung a Visit 



was aware of the growth and development within me of 
one of those inferiority complexes which make us feel and 
play the role of the idiot to perfection. It was in this unhap- 
py state that I, my umbrella, and my emotions, entered the 
house of the famous Swiss psychiatrist. But my umbrella — 
whose fate I envied at that moment — remained in the vesti- 
bule while we (my emotions and I) had to go up a stair- 
case. We were requested to wait in a small study, its walls 
lined with books. This interval was providential. On sev- 
eral shelves, I suddenly perceived, lined up in a tight row, 
a regiment of detective novels. The arrival of the dove with 
the olive branch could not have produced in Noah's heart 
greater delight than this discovery did in mine. To me it 
also announced "Land!" 

"Homo sum!" I thought. In Dr. Jung's house they (he or 
his family) also read those completely silly stories that were 
read in mine or yours, and which relax you like a yawn. I 
finally recovered my nerve. True, I know through experi- 
ence the weakness of certain princes of the mind for detec- 
tive novels; my library, rich in this type of literature, has 
repeatedly been sacked by such people. But despite this, I 
did not expect to find Edgar Wallace in the home of the 
most eminent professor of the University of Zurich. 1 I was 
enchanted. 

Completely comforted, a few minutes later I entered Dr. 
Jung's office. 

I immediately notice that he is tall, very tall. But, strange- 
ly, my eyes, which I raise to his, do not learn from his face 
anything but an expression of power and intelligence which 
suffuses it; an intelligence which comes at me like an enor- 
mous elephant, blotting out all else. 

An elephantine intelligence! It is my feeling that that 
great intelligence which sees everything does not see me, 

1 Jung had resigned in 1914 from the medical faculty of the Uni- 
versity; in 1934, he was a lecturer at the Federal Technical Institute 
(ETH). 

83 



1934 

that it is going to knock me down and flatten me out. In- 
stinctively I tend to avoid him and to throw things at him. 
He catches them one by one, with that extreme, incredible 
adroitness of elephants . . . (whether it is a matter of tearing 
up a tree trunk or catching a cube of sugar). And so we 
start our conversation. 

Suddenly he says something which I still ponder and 
which I believe is, of the entire interview, most worthy of 
repeating. When I ask him whether he would not like to 
deliver some lectures in Argentina, he answers: "What for? 
They could not be interested. They would not understand. 
Because they are Latins? Because they are Catholics?" 

I wished I might have immediately been given a long 
lecture to explain what he meant; but patients were waiting 
for him, with God knows what burden of complexes. 

Jung accompanied me to the vestibule (where I picked 
up my umbrella, which I no longer envied). His two dogs 
did not leave his side, and jostling them, we all went down 
the stairs. One was an extravert, the other an introvert, the 
master of the house told me, laughing. I did not have to 
ask which one was which. 

As he himself confessed, Psychological Types, which I 
recommend to my friends both known and unknown, "is 
the result of almost twenty years' work in the field of prac- 
tical psychology." 

Huxley says that when we read Jung's books, we feel that 
his intuitive understanding of the human being is as pro- 
found as Dostoevski's. 

For myself, I confess that a work like Psychological 
Types stirred me as deeply as the Brothers Karamazov. 

[Translated by Martin Nozicf(] 



84 



MAN'S IMMORTAL MIND 



* »♦»»♦« I tH I HII I ini t H 



Jung was invited by the Tavistock Clinic in London — officially 
called the Institute of Medical Psychology — to give a series of 
five lectures, which he delivered September 30 to October 4, 
1935, to an audience of some two hundred medical men and 
women. A mimeographed transcript of the lectures was private- 
ly circulated under the title "Fundamental Psychological Con- 
ceptions"; not until 1968 was the text published, as Analytical 
Psychology: Its Theory and Practice. 1 The London press took 
notice of Jung's presence, and during his visit several interviews 
were published, of which one in the Observer for October 6, 
1935, is noteworthy. It is abridged here. "The laughter of Dr. 
C. G. Jung may be heard in London at the moment, after a 
silence of ten years" — thus the anonymous reporter begins, and 
he goes on to describe Jung's enormous good humor. "As he 
talked, the abrupt cleavage between his own psychological 
theory and practice and those of Freud, with whom he parted 
company intellectually many years ago, became apparent. How 
abrupt is the cleavage he revealed in a sentence typical of his 
sudden, epigrammatic manner of speech — " 



Sex is a playground for lonely scientists. 

You might as well study the psychology of nutrition as 
the psychology of sex. Primitive man, of course, had the sex 
instinct, but he was much more deeply concerned with 
feeding himself. Besides, why base the psychology of a man 
on his bad corner? 

When I deal with one who is mentally unbalanced I am 
not concerned only with one function of his mind and body. 
I look for the ancient man in him. I try to trace the strata 
of the human mind from its earliest beginnings, just as a 

1 As "The Tavistock Lectures" in CW 18. 



85 



1935 

geologist might study the stratification o£ the earth. The 
fear of ancient man crouching at the ford is in all our un- 
conscious minds, as well as all other fears and speculations 
born of man's experience through the ages. The mind of 
mankind is immortal. 

For instance, I remember suddenly feeling, during an 
earthquake in Switzerland, that the earth was alive, that it 
was an animal. At once I recognized the ancient Japanese 
belief that a huge salamander lies inside the earth, and that 
earthquakes happen when he turns in his sleep. 2 

A patient of mine once told me that whenever lightning 
flashed she saw a great black horse. That is another primi- 
tive idea — that lightning was a horse's leg striking down- 
wards, the horse of Odin. 3 If a man or a woman ceases to 
be able to communicate with us, we say that he or she is 
insane. But if I can find the ancient man in them, if I can 
explain the great black horse in the lightning, I may be 
able to make them communicate with me. I may be able to 
restore the bridge — more easily if I can discover from their 
dreams what is in their unconscious minds. 

That is why I correspond not only with medical scientists, 
but with students of religion and mythology in all parts of 
the world. That is why I am at present studying medieval 
texts in the British Museum. The medieval stratum in our 
unconscious mind is nearest to the surface. 

The study of medical science is in transition. The rela- 
tionship between mind and body is being more fully ap- 
preciated. Not that there is anything new in that. The 
medieval doctors studied dreams. Eastern medicine is based 
on psychotherapy — the treatment of disease by hypnotic 
influence. 

2 Cf. ibid., par. 67 (where Jung told the same story), n. 17: "Ac- 
cording to a Japanese legend, the natnazu, a kind of catfish of mon- 
strous size, carries on its back most of Japan, and when annoyed 
it moves its head or tail, thus provoking earthquakes" (editorial 
note). 

3 See Symbols of Transformation (CW 5), p. 277. 

86 



Man's Immortal Mind 

Psychology is not yet, of course, a recognized part of the 
medical curriculum. There is much enthusiasm, but there is 
also much misunderstanding and misinterpretation. Still, I 
have four hundred students at Zurich, and the criminal 
courts call me in as a last resort if they are unable to decide 
upon the guilt or innocence of a suspect. 38 

In twenty years you will have your organization of ap- 
proved medical psychologists, just like your Medical Reg- 
ister. 

And your next bool(? 

It is nearly finished. I shall call it "Dream Symbols of the 
Individuation Process." 4 It's about how man becomes him- 
self. Man is always an individual, but he's not always him- 
self. . . . "Be yourself," as the Americans say. 

3a Cf. "On the Psychological Diagnosis of Evidence" (orig. 1937), 
CW 2, pars. i357ff. Jung had been requested by the Criminal Court 
of Canton Zurich, in 1934, to submit an expert opinion on an 
accused murderer, using the association experiment. 

4 Jung's lecture at the Eranos Conference, August 1935, so entitled, 
was included in The Integration of the Personality ( 1939) and later 
was revised as Part II of Psychology and Alchemy (CW 12). 



87 



THE 2,000,000-YEAR-OLD MAN 



)HM4 t HHI I ItMMtM t> 



Harvard University invited Jung to its Tercentenary Conference 
on Arts and Sciences, in September 1936, to participate in a 
symposium on "Factors Determining Human Behavior." 1 
When he disembarked in New York, he had prepared a press 
release, devoted chiefly to setting forth his political — or, as he 
insisted, his nonpolitical— position. 2 Upon leaving New York to 
sail to England, he was interviewed by the New Yor\ Times 
at the Hotel Ambassador, and the article, headed "Roosevelt 
'Great,' Is Jung's Analysis," appeared in the issue of Sunday, 
October 4, 1936. The following text omits the reporter's com- 
ments, except for the indirect quotations from Jung, given in 
brackets. 



Before I came here I had the impression one might get 
from Europe that he [Roosevelt] was an opportunist, per- 
haps even an erratic mind. Now that I have seen him and 
heard him when he talked at Harvard, however, I am con- 
vinced that here is a strong man, a man who is really 
great. Perhaps that's why many people do not like him. 

[Dr. Jung paid his respects to dictators, explaining their 
rise as due to the effort o£ peoples to delegate to others the 
complicated task of managing their collective existence so 
that individuals might be free to engage in "individuation." 
He defined the term as the development by each person of 
his own inherent pattern of existence.] 

People have been bewildered by the war, by what has oc- 
curred in Russia, Italy, Germany, Spain. These things take 

1 For Jung's contribution, "Psychological Factors Determining 
Human Behaviour," see CW 8, pars. 2328. 

2 No publication of the press release has come to light, but the 
text is printed in CW 18, pars. 1300-1304. 

88 



The 2, 000, 000-Y ear-Old Man 



their breath away. They wonder if it is worth while living 
because they have lost their beliefs, their philosophy. They 
ask if civilization has made any progress at all. 

I would call it progress that in the 2,000,000 years we have 
existed on earth we have developed a chin and a decent 
sort of brain. Historically what we call progress is, after all, 
just a mushroom growth of coal and oil. Otherwise we are 
not any more intelligent than the old Greeks or Romans. 
As to the present troubles, it is important simply to remem- 
ber that mankind has been through such things more than 
once and has given evidence of a great adaptive system 
stored away in our unconscious mind. 

[It is to this great adaptive system in every individual 
that he addresses himself, he explained, when a patient 
comes to him, broken down by his struggles with the prob- 
lems of his individual existence.] 

Together the patient and I address ourselves to the 2,000,- 
ooo-year-old man that is in all of us. In the last analysis, 
most of our difficulties come from losing contact with our 
instincts, with the age-old unforgotten wisdom stored up 
in us. 3 

And where do we make contact with this old man in us ? 
In our dreams. They are the clear manifestations of our 
unconscious mind. They are the rendezvous of the racial 
history and of our current external problems. In our sleep 
we consult the 2,000,000-year-old man which each of us 
represents. We struggle with him in various manifestations 
of fantasy. That is why I ask a patient to write up his 
dreams. Usually they point the way for him as an individual. 

[Dr. Jung said we dream all the time — it is normal to 
dream. Those who say they have a dreamless sleep, he in- 
sisted, merely forget their dreams immediately on waking. 
In all languages, he pointed out, there is a proverb record- 

3 Cf. "A Talk with Students at the Institute" (1958), below, pp. 
359ft. 

89 



1936 

ing the wisdom of sleeping on any difficult problem. . . . 
Even when awake, Dr. Jung concluded, we dream; un- 
bidden fantasies flit through the background of our minds 
and occasionally come to notice when our attention to im- 
mediate external problems is lowered by fatigue or reverie.] 
There is hope of repairing a breakdown whenever a 
patient has neurotic symptoms. They indicate that he is 
not at one with himself and the neurotic symptoms them- 
selves usually diagnose what is wrong. Those who have no 
neurotic symptoms are probably beyond help by any one. 



90 



THE PSYCHOLOGY OF 
DICTATORSHIP 



I t I I I M III »l *»« * 



On his eastward crossing of the Atlantic in October 1936, after 
the visit to Harvard, Jung wrote a lecture on "Psychology and 
National Problems," which he delivered to the Tavistock Clinic 
(Institute of Medical Psychology), London, on October 14, 
1936. 1 Ideas resembling those in the lecture occurred, naturally, 
in interviews that Jung gave to London newspapers during his 
visit. One of these, in the Daily Sketch for October 15, was 
headed "Why the World Is in a Mess. Dr. Jung Tells Us How 
Nature Is Changing Modern Woman." Another, in the Ob- 
server for October 18, is given here, without the reporter's in- 
troductory words. The same text was published partially in 
Time, Nov. 9, 1936, and fully in The Living Age (New 
York), December 1936. 



Hitler, Mussolini, Stalin, yes, and Roosevelt, they are tribal 
rulers. England and Switzerland are still tribal. They pre- 
serve their local differences and distinctions. You have 
your Welsh, Irish, Scottish. You observe your ancient tribal 
customs — the ceremony with which the Lord Mayor greets 
the King when he crosses the boundary of the City of 
London, for instance. 

There are people who grow impatient of such customs. 
That is wrong. They are healthy, because they are good for 
the unconscious. When the old tribal institutions — the for- 
mer small duchies and princedoms of Germany and Italy — 
are broken up, then comes the upheaval, before a new tribal 
order is created. It is always the same. The tribe has its 
personal ruler. He surrounds himself with his own par- 

1 Not published until 1976, in CW 18, pars. 1305ft. 



9 1 



1936 



ticular followers, who become an oligarchy. Then the 
"State" takes his place. 

The State is a ghost, a mirror-reflex of the personal ruler. 
The ghost-State creates its own oligarchy. Capitalism is an 
oligarchy. The American trusts were an oligarchy. But there 
is always the struggle against the oligarchy. The people 
look to their State to give them more wages, higher stand- 
ards of living. The State can only do so by dissipating 
energy, by tapping resources. 

And so the time comes when the State must make fake 
money. First it is called "inflation." Then, because that is 
unpopular, "devaluation." Now they are calling it "dilu- 
tion." But it is all the same thing— fake money. Thus you 
have insecurity. Savings become illusory. Since nature is 
aristocratic, the valuable part of the population is reduced 
to the level of misery. 

Communistic or Socialistic democracy is an upheaval of 
the unfit against attempts at order. Consider the stay-in 
strikes in France, the former Socialistic upheavals in Ger- 
many and Italy. This state of disorder called democratic 
freedom or liberalism brings its own reactions— enforced 
order. In as much as the European nations are incapable 
of living in a chronic state of disorder, they will make at- 
tempts at enforced order, or Fascism. 

Russia is the typical oligarchy, as it always was. The 
Communist Party is a privileged ruling caste. They are 
working toward the same thing in Germany. The S.S. men 
are being transformed into a caste of knights ruling sixty 
million natives. So you see, the tribal boundaries may be 
extended, the smaller tribes may be transformed into a 
nation, but the tribal idea remains. The dictatorships of 
Germany, Russia, and Italy may not be the best form of 
government, but they are the only possible form of govern- 
ment at the moment. 

I have just come from America, where I saw Roosevelt. 
Make no mistake, he is a force— a man of superior and im- 



92 



The Psychology of Dictatorship 

penetrable mind, but perfectly ruthless, a highly versatile 
mind which you cannot foresee. He has the most amazing 
power complex, the Mussolini substance, the stuff of a dicta- 
tor absolutely. 

There are two kinds of dictators — the chieftain type and 
the medicine man type. Hitler is the latter. He is a medium. 
German policy is not made; it is revealed through Hitler. 
He is the mouthpiece of the gods as of old. He says the 
word which expresses everybody's resentment. 

I remember a medicine man in Africa who said to me al- 
most with tears in his eyes: "We have no dreams any more 
since the British are in the country." When I asked him 
why, he answered: "The District Commissioner knows 
everything." 

Mussolini, Stalin, and Roosevelt rule like that, but in 
Germany they still have "dreams." You remember the story 
of how, when Hitler was being pressed by other Powers 
not to withdraw Germany from the League of Nations, he 
shut himself away for three days, and then simply said, 
without explanation: "Germany must withdraw!" That is 
rule by revelation. 

Hence the sensitiveness of Germans to criticism or abuse 
of their leader. It is blasphemy to them, for Hitler is the 
Sybil, the Delphic oracle. 

After the dictators? Oligarchy in some form. A decent 
oligarchy — call it aristocracy if you like— is the most ideal 
form of government. It depends on the quality of a nation 
whether they evolve a decent oligarchy or not. I am not 
sure that Russia will, but Germany and Italy have a chance. 

Without the aristocratic ideal there is no stability. You 
in England owe it to the "gentleman" that you possess the 
world. 



93 



IS ANALYTICAL PSYCHOLOGY 
A RELIGION? 



After speaking at the Harvard Tercentenary Conference, Jung 
spent a week at Bailey Island, Maine, giving the first half of a 
seminar on "Dream Symbols of the Individuation Process," based 
on his 1935 Eranos lecture. 1 Afterward, Jung traveled to New 
York City for another week of consultations and lecturing, and 
he sailed for England on October 3. The previous evening, during 
a farewell supper party, Jung talked extemporaneously. Several 
members of the audience took notes, which were compiled by 
Eleanor Bertine, Esther Harding, and Jane A. Pratt for restricted 
circulation among the members of the group. Finally in Spring 
1972 the notes were published, as edited by Mrs. Pratt, who in- 
cluded the following introductory comment: 

"Few who were there will ever forget the circumstances un- 
der which Jung spoke that evening. Immediately preceding the 
supper with his friends, Jung had given a large public lecture 
in the ballroom of the Plaza Hotel. This lecture, entitled 'The 
Concept of the Collective Unconscious,' 2 was difficult, and dealt 
with controversial ideas crucial to the understanding of his 
work. All of Jung's most prominent New York supporters and 
detractors had come to hear it. But the occasion was not pro- 
pitious. The lecture (at that time) required slides, a lot of 
them, and an enthusiastic follower had volunteered to pro- 
ject them, but either this man's skills were insufficient, 
or the slides were possessed. They came on upside down 
or reversed, and fell on the floor when he attempted to 
right them. If Jung wanted to see one again, they moved for- 
ward, if he said to go on, they went back. So Jung stood, pointer 
in hand, on a raised platform before his huge audience, either 

1 See above, "Man's Immortal Mind," n. 4. Also see p. xviii, Note. 

2 Again given as a lecture to the Abernethian Society at St. Bartholo- 
mew's Hospital, London, on Oct. 19, 1936, and revised in CW 9 i. 



94 



Is Analytical Psychology a Religion? 

waiting for the right pictures to appear, or hurrying to com- 
ment intelligibly upon them before they passed on. Meanwhile 
his adherents suffered. Reacting at first with great consideration 
i to the awkwardness of his assistant, his remarks became sharper 

by shades— since negative feelings will out— and the suffering 
of the adherents increased. Yet that misfortunate lecture ended 
without anything basically human being destroyed — not even 
Jung's relation to the assistant, who admitted the justice of a 
certain irritation. Only the muddle and all the interruptions 
had completely destroyed the continuity of Jung's important 
argument. Later he was reported to have told someone: 
'I was analyzed tonight, if never before.' In place of the im- 
pressive exposition that he planned, Jung had given a small 
demonstration. Conceivably this may have influenced the con- 
tent of what he said later" — as follows: 



I hardly know what to say to you tonight. I have talked so 
much, twice already this evening. I do not know what more 
there is. I can only hope that something will come to me 
that I can give you. 3 

Many people have asked me, and doubtless asked you too, 
whether analytical psychology is not really a religion. Also, 
in connection with the subject of my Yale lectures, as well 
as that of the Seminar, I have had to give a great deal of 
attention lately to the relation of psychology to religion. So 
now at the end of the Seminar I would like to speak to you 
about this question. 

The activation of the unconscious is a phenomenon pecul- 
iar to our day. All through the Middle Ages people's psy- 
chology was entirely different from what it is now; they 
had no realization of anything outside of consciousness. 
Even the psychological science of the eighteenth century 
completely identified the psyche with consciousness. 

3 This opening paragraph was added from another version by 
E. F. Edinger, who contributed one or two other minor changes 
in the text. 



95 



1936 

If you had a kind of X-ray by means of which you could 
observe the state of the unconscious in a man of two or three 
hundred years ago and compare it with that in a modern 
man, you would see an enormous difference. In the first 
man it would be quiescent; in the modern man, tremend- 
ously aroused and active. Formerly men did not even feel 
that they had a psychology as we do now. The unconscious 
was contained and held dormant in Christian theology. The 
Weltanschauung that resulted was universal, absolutely uni- 
form—without room for doubt. Man had begun at a definite 
point, with the Creation; everyone knew all about it. But 
today archetypal contents, formerly taken care of satisfac- 
torily by the explanations of the Church, have come loose 
from their projections and are troubling modern people. 
Questions as to where we are going, and why, are asked on 
every side. The psychic energy associated with these con- 
tents is stirring as never before; we cannot remain uncon- 
scious of it. Whole layers of the psyche are coming to light 
for the first time. That is why we have so many flourishing 
"isms." Much of this energy goes into science, to be sure; 
but science is new, its tradition is recent and does not satisfy 
archetypal needs. The present psychological situation is un- 
precedented; from the point of view of all previous experi- 
ence, it is abnormal. 

As a result, men have begun to be aware that they have 
a psychology. A man from the past would have no under- 
standing of what we mean when we say that something is 
going on in our heads. Nothing like that happened to him. 
Had he felt such a thing he would have thought himself 
crazy. Men used to say: "I feel something move in my 
heart"— or, before that, they felt it lower down in the stom- 
ach. They were aware only of thoughts that moved the 
diaphragm or the guts. The Greek word phren, meaning 
"spirit," is the root of the word "diaphragm." When people 
began to feel things moving in their heads they were afraid, 
and they went to the doctors, for they knew something was 

96 



1 



Is Analytical Psychology a Religion? 

wrong. It was from the doctors that this new kind of psy- 
chology came. So it is a somewhat pathological psychology. 

Latency is probably the best condition for the unconscious. 
But life has gone out of the churches, and it will never go 
back. The gods will not reinvest dwellings that once they 
have left. The same thing happened before, in the time of 
the Roman Caesars, when paganism was dying. According 
to legend, 4 the captain of a ship passing between two Greek 
islands heard a great sound of lamentation and a loud voice 
crying: Pan ho megas tethneken, Great Pan is dead. When 
this man reached Rome he demanded an audience with the 
emperor, so important was his news. Originally Pan was an 
unimportant nature spirit, chiefly occupied with teasing 
shepherds; but later, as the Romans became more involved 
with Greek culture, Pan was confused with to pan, meaning 
"the All." He became the demiurgos, the anima mundi. 
Thus the many gods of paganism were concentrated into 
one God. Then came this message, "Pan is dead." Great 
Pan, who is God, is dead. Only man remains alive. After 
that the one God became one man, and this was Christ; 
one man for all. But now that too is gone, now every man 
has to carry God. The descent of spirit into matter is com- 
plete. 

Jesus, you know, was a boy born of an unmarried mother. 
Such a boy is called illegitimate, and there is a prejudice 
which puts him at a great disadvantage. He suffers from a 
terrible feeling of inferiority for which he is certain to have 
to compensate. Hence the temptation of Jesus in the wilder- 
ness, in which the kingdom was offered to him. Here he 
met his worst enemy, the power devil; but he was able to 
see that, and to refuse. He said, "My kingdom is not of this 
world." But "kingdom" it was, all the same. And you re- 
member that strange incident, the triumphal entry into 
Jerusalem. The utter failure came at the Crucifixion in the 

4 Plutarch, De dejectu oracuJorum, 17. (The Greek quotation 
has been corrected in accordance with the Loeb edition.) 



97 



T I 



1936 

tragic words, "My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken 
me?" If you want to understand the full tragedy of those 
words you must realize what they meant: Christ saw that 
his whole life, devoted to the truth according to his best 
conviction, had been a terrible illusion. He had lived it to 
the full absolutely sincerely, he had made his honest experi- 
ment, but it was nevertheless a compensation. On the Cross 
his mission deserted him. But because he had lived so fully 
and devotedly he won through to the Resurrection body. 

We all must do just what Christ did. We must make our 
experiment. We must make mistakes. We must live out our 
own vision of life. And there will be error. If you avoid 
error you do not live; in a sense even it may be said that 
every life is a mistake, for no one has found the truth. 
When we live like this we know Christ as a brother, and 
God indeed becomes man. This sounds like a terrible blas- 
phemy, but not so. For then only can we understand Christ 
as he would want to be understood, as a fellow man; then 
only does God become man in ourselves. 

This sounds like religion, but it is not. I am speaking just 
as a philosopher. People sometimes call me a religious 
leader. I am not that. I have no message, no mission; I at- 
tempt only to understand. We are philosophers in the old 
sense of the word, lovers of wisdom. That avoids the some- 
times questionable company of those who offer a religion. 
And so the last thing I would say to each of you, my 
friends, is : Carry through your life as well as you can, even 
if it is based on error, because life has to be undone, and one 
often gets to truth through error. Then, like Christ, you 
will have accomplished your experiment. So, be human, 
seek understanding, seek insight, and make your hypothesis, 
your philosophy of life. Then we may recognize the Spirit 
alive in the unconscious of every individual. Then we be- 
come brothers of Christ. 



98 



QUESTIONS AND ANSWERS AT 
THE OXFORD CONGRESS, 1938 



MIM t Ht l M I IMIHIMM 



The tenth International Medical Congress for Psychotherapy 
was held at Oxford from July 29 to August 2, 1938. Jung pre- 
sided, in his capacity as president of the International General 
Medical Society for Psychotherapy, 1 which sponsored the Con- 
gress. On August 1, at the request of a number of doctors at 
the Congress, Jung participated in a question-and-answer ses- 
sion, which was recorded in shorthand by Derek Kitchin. The 
transcript has been in private hands and is published here for 
the first time. 



1. What is your view on the exact nature of psychic 
causation? 

That sounds very dangerous, but it is not so terrible. It 
means really the question of causality versus finality. It is a 
simple fact of logic that you can explain a sequence of events 
either from A to Z or from Z to A. You may say that A is 
the big causa prima, the absolute causa efficiens from which 
depends the sequence as a sequence; or you can consider 
the Z as the final cause, which has an attractive effect upon 
the events which precede it. This simply means that we 
take the sequence of events which we observe as a solid 
connection. In itself it is not a solid connection at all. The 
sequence of events has perhaps no connection whatever. If 
we try to explain the sequence we have got to apply the idea 
that there is a connection. We cannot help that: the idea of 
causation is a category of judgment a priori, and we cannot 
look at any sequence of events without applying that cate- 

1 For Jung's presidential address to the Congress, see CW 10, pars. 
1060-73. At this time, Oxford University gave him a D.Sc. hon. 

99 



1938 



gory. It is not quite correct. We might have said: "You 
cannot look at a sequence of events without applying the 
idea of connection." 

The idea of causality itself is a thoroughly magical idea. 
We assume that this thing here, the causa prima, has a vir- 
tue, that of producing subsequent events. So we make the 
same assumption about the final cause: that it has the virtue 
of attracting a series of events towards itself so that it ap- 
pears to be the result, the goal, the aim. That is mere as- 
sumption. It is the way our mind deals with a sequence of 
events. 

Now, as everywhere in natural science, and also in psy- 
chology and psychotherapy, we consider the sequence of 
psychic events as a connection, a solid sequence, that either 
begins with a prime cause or follows a final cause. Both 
ways have been applied: the Freudian point of view is a 
strict causality point of view, and the Adlerian point of view 
is as strict a final-cause point of view. 

I handle the case more skeptically. I should say that if we 
have to apply the cause either way, we want to explain 
either way. Any biological process has two aspects: you can 
explain it either from the beginning or from the end. You 
have "Either-or," or rather, "Either-and/or." You have to 
say that it is surely in a way a causation, but the causa 
prima has a sort of magical effect. At the same time, inas- 
much as it is purposive, teleological, it is also directed by 
the final cause, or by the idea of the goal, or whatever you 
like to call it. I take the whole question of causation as a 
problem of the theory of cognition. 

2. How would you define volition? What, in your view, is 
the relationship of the volitional process to the process of 
repression and inhibition? 

That also is a very central problem. It is of great interest 
to me that such questions should be asked at all. I think it is 
very important. I always hold that psychology is such a 

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Questions and Answers at Oxford 

complicated chapter of human knowledge that those who 
deal with it should really have some philosophical prepara- 
tion. Medical psychology, surely, cannot stand alone. This 
is a science much too big for our medical preparation. We 
medical people ought to take loans from other sciences. For 
instance, we should have some knowledge of primitive 
psychology, of history, philosophy, and so on. Many things 
with which we are grappling in our psychology could be 
simplified and made easier by knowledge that we have 
gained in other spheres. 

Therefore we have a natural tendency to simplify and to 
create, at least for ourselves, a terminology which is gen- 
erally understandable. But I am thoroughly convinced that 
we shall not be able to evolve such a teminology from med- 
ical psychology alone. That would always remain a sort of 
slang, a medical slang, and we have plenty of such slang 
already; I don't advocate any further increase of that kind 
of thing. I am also a strong adherent of the idea that our 
terminology should be correct. We should not use hybrid 
words, or badly constructed Graeco-Latin terms; words of 
entirely wrong derivation. You know that the terminology 
in the field of medical psychology is still in the state of the 
old Babylonian confusion of tongues. It really is so, as it is 
said in Green Pastures, 2 that when the Lord heard those 
people cursing while they were building the tower of Babel 
he turned them all into foreigners and sent them all to 
Europe. People speak different languages in Europe; they 
don't do so in America. 

This definition of volition: here I can only give you my 
own point of view, which is quite subjective. It is a mere 
proposition, which I submit to further discussion. I hold 
that this question ought to be settled with the help of primi- 

2 A play by Marc Connelly (1930; later filmed), adapted from 
stories by Roark Bradford based on American Negro folk-themes. 
Jung mentioned the film in his 1940 Eranos lecture, "On the Psy- 
chology of the Idea of the Trinity"; cf. CW n, par. 266. 



1 01 



1938 

tive psychology. Many of our difficulties would vanish if we 
had a better knowledge of primitive psychology. You know, 
perhaps, that I have done some work along that line. I 
have been to primitive countries and I have done actual 
field work with primitives, in order to gain an immediate 
impression of the primitive mind. I can assure you that what 
we call "will" or "volition" is a phenomenon that does not 
exist with primitives, or only in traces. 

I will give you a very simple example. 3 Once I wanted 
to send a letter to a very distant station, about 120 kilometres 
from the place where we were. The chief sent me a man, 
a runner, and I gave him my letter, and said, "Here is the 
letter, now you go down to the station." The man simply 
stared at me as if he did not understand a word. I spoke 
his language — that means, I spoke the pidgin Swahili; he 
understood it, but it did not reach him somehow. I did not 
know what the matter was. I repeated, "Here is the letter, 
and now you go." He went on staring at me as he had be- 
fore, as if he did not understand a word, but he seemed 
willing. I said, "That man is idiotic." In the meantime my 
headman, a Somali, came up and said, "You don't do it in 
the right way." He took a whip and began to dance up and 
down in front of that good native, and curse him up and 
down, and his ancestors and his children; and so that man 
began to wake up, wondering what great thing was in store 
for him: he heard that this here is the great white man who 
wants to send a letter to the other white man at the station, 
and that he should run in such and such a way; and then 
the messenger's staff was brought, a cleft stick, and the 
letter was put into the cleavage, and that was handed to 
him, and then he was shown how he should run. And dur- 
ing all that procedure that man's face came up like the sun 
on Sunday morning; a large grin appeared, and he grasped 

3 Jung recounted the same story in more detail, from his visit to 
East Africa in 1925-26, in "A Radio Talk in Munich" (1930), CW 
18, pars. 1288-91. 



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Questions and Answers at Oxford 

it; then he went off, and in one stretch he ran that 120 
kilometres. That is a very simple example of how it ought 
to be done in many cases. 

Every primitive needs the rite d'entree, which is what 
some people call the procedure about which I have told 
you. This means that you must put his mind into the frame 
of doing, if you want something outside the ordinary. Nat- 
urally, if it is something of his every-day, there is a cer- 
tain adaptation, a certain attitude to it; but if he has to 
bring a letter somewhere, that is something else. To us it is 
nothing extraordinary, but to him it is an extraordinary 
thing, and that thing needs a rite d'entree. Hunting is for 
many tribes not an ordinary affair, so they have a special 
rite d'entree for hunting. They work themselves up into 
the state of doing the special thing. For instance, the Aus- 
tralian aborigines have a special routine for making a man 
angry, in order to get the idea into him that he should 
avenge a man who has been killed by another tribe. It is 
done in a very elaborate way, the waking-up ceremonial. I 
cannot go into details, but at the very moment when that 
man is thoroughly awake, you tell him that the man has 
been killed and that he ought to do something about it; 
and then the whole tribe wakes up and seeks the enemy. If 
they find him, there will be a battle about it, but if they 
don't find him, the excitement subsides, and everyone goes 
home as if nothing had happened. 

This shows that the will was practically non-existent and 
that it needed all that ceremonial which you observe in 
primitive tribes to bring up something that is an equivalent 
of our word "decision." Slowly through the ages we have 
acquired a certain amount of will power. We could detach 
so much energy from the energy of nature, from the orig- 
inal unconsciousness, from the original flow of events, an 
amount of energy we could control. We can say now, "I 
have made up my mind, I am going to do this and that," 
with a certain amount of energy. I cannot exceed that 



103 



1938 



Questions and Answers at Oxford 



amount of energy; I have only a certain amount of will 
power. So you say, when the task is too difficult or when 
there are too great inhibitions, "I cannot carry through my 
decision." There are people who have a lot of will power 
at their disposal, and others who have very little. Also, as 
you know, the education of children consists to a great ex- 
tent of building up that volition, because it is not there to 
begin with. 

We see them in extraordinary situations, these ancient 
rites d' entree. All rites are in a way rites d' entree or rites de 
sortie, which are meant to get us out of a certain predica- 
ment. One of the most striking examples of the rite de sortie 
is when a tribe has been making war on another tribe and 
a man has succeeded in killing somebody. Then, of course, 
he is a great warrior; then he is all excited and he comes 
home. You would expect a wonderful reception. Not at all; 
they catch him before he enters the village, the great, vic- 
torious hero, and they put him in a little hut and they feed 
him on a vegetarian diet for a few months in order to get 
him out of his blood-thirst — which is a very recommendable 
thing! 

Now, what we do, or what we decide, is not all will- 
power or volition, because we are acting a great deal on 
instinct, and instinct has no merit at all. That is no moral 
decision; we are simply moved to do something, just as it 
happens. Instinctive reaction has the quality of "all or none." 
It happens or it does not happen. With the will it is an 
entirely different proposition. The will, volition, is a moral 
action, and naturally it has a direct connection with repres- 
sion and inhibition. You can repress instincts by your will, 
easily or, it may be, with great difficulty. You cannot bring 
about so-called sublimation by means of instinct; that will 
not happen. But you can bring it about by volition. Inhibi- 
tion can be an absence of will; for instance, when you 
want to do something, you really wish it, but you cannot 
carry it out because your volition is inhibited; the energy 



104 






is absent, it is taken away. On the primitive level that 
phenomenon is a very frequent one; it is the loss of the 
soul; it has that quality. There are many patients who will 
tell you that today they have no libido at all; or that sud- 
denly, when they woke up in the morning, their libido 
had gone, or that at a certain moment during the day it had 
vanished. They have what the people in South America 
call "lost the gana." 4. It is a peculiar concept, and shows 
exactly what that is, I mean that loss. For instance, Argen- 
tine people play tennis; a ball jumps over the fence. There is 
a little Indian girl outside, and the people inside ask her to 
throw the ball in. She sadly stares at the people and does 
nothing. Then naturally they ask her, "Why don't you 
throw the ball over the fence?" "I have no gana" no 
pleasure in doing it. "I can't do it, because I have no pleas- 
ure in it"; and then you can't do it. That, you see, is a primi- 
tive concept. Gana is what we would call libido, or energy, 
or volition. When gana is absent, that is an excellent motive. 
For instance, when somebody asks you a favor, and you say, 
"I'm sorry, it doesn't please me," or that you don't like it, 
that is very impolite. But in South America it is different. 
There people understand what it means when you say it 
doesn't please you; that is enough. You say, "I have no 
gana"; that counts. There is also a social recognition of the 
extraordinarily important fact whether somebody is pleased 
to do something or not. With us this apparently does not 
count at all. I am afraid that is a piece of primitive psy- 
chology. That is what we call an inhibition. I should think 
it would be of a certain importance for our medical psy- 
chology if we could consider these primitive conditions a 
bit more. Many things could then be explained in a way 
that would allow primitive psychology to come in without 
medical knowledge. 

4 Jung apparently picked up the idea of gana from Count Her- 
mann Keyserling, who discussed it in South-American Meditations 
(1932). Cf. above, p. 82. 



105 



1938 



Questions and Answers at Oxford 



3. In what respect, if any, does the treatment of neurosis 
in the second half of life— that means after thirty— differ 
from that in the first half of life? 

This is also a question which you could discuss for sev- 
eral hours. It is quite impossible for me to go into details; 
I only can give you a few hints. The first half of life, which 
I reckon lasts for the first 35 or 36 years, is the time when 
the individual usually expands into the world. It is just like 
an exploding celestial body, and the fragments travel out 
into space, covering ever greater distances. So our mental 
horizon widens out, and our wishes and expectation, our 
ambition, our will to conquer the world and live, go on ex- 
panding, until you come to the middle of life. A man who 
after forty years has not reached that position in life which 
he had dreamed of is easily the prey of disappointment. 
Hence the extraordinary frequency of depressions after the 
fortieth year. It is the decisive moment; and when you 
study the productivity of great artists— for instance, Nie- 
tzsche 5 — you find that at the beginning of the second half 
of life their modes of creativeness often change. For in- 
stance, Nietzsche began to write Zarathustra, which is his 
outstanding work, quite different from everything he did 
before and after, when he was between 37 and 38. That is 
the critical time. In the second part of life you begin to 
question yourself. Or rather, you don't; you avoid such 
questions, but something in yourself asks them, and you do 
not like to hear that voice asking "What is the goal?" And 
next, "Where are you going now?" When you are young 
you think, when you get to a certain position, "This is the 
thing I want." The goal seems to be quite visible. People 
think, "I am going to marry, and then I shall get into such 
and such a position, and then I shall make a lot of money, 
and then I don't know what." Suppose they have reached 
it; then comes another question: "And now what? Are we 

5 From 1934 to 1939, Jung had been giving a detailed seminar in 
Zurich on "Psychological Aspects of Nietzsche's Zarathustra." 

106 



ii. 

I 

f 

1 



really interested in going on like this forever, for ever 
doing the same thing, or are we looking for a goal as splen- 
did or as fascinating as we had it before?" Then the an- 
swer is: "Well, there is nothing ahead. What is there 
ahead? Death is ahead." That is disagreeable, you see; that 
is most disagreeable. So it looks as if the second part of life 
has no goal whatever. Now you know the answer to that. 
From time immemorial man has had the answer: "Well, 
death is a goal; we are looking forward, we are working 
forward to a definite end." The religions, you see, the great 
religions, are systems for preparing the second half of life 
for the end, the goal, of the second part of life. 

Once, through the help of friends, I sent a questionnaire 
to people who did not know that I was the originator of 
the questionnaire. I had been asked the question, "Why do 
people prefer to go to the doctor instead of to the priest 
for confession?" Now I doubted whether it was really 
true that people prefer a doctor, and I wanted to know what 
the general public was going to say. By chance that ques- 
tionnaire came into the hands of a Chinaman, and his an- 
swer was, "When I am young I go to the doctor, and when 
I am old I go to the philosopher." You see, that character- 
izes the difference : when you are young, you live expansive- 
ly, you conquer the world; and when you grow old, you 
begin to reflect. You naturally begin to think of what you 
have done. There a moment comes, between 36 and 40 — 
certain people take a bit longer — when perhaps, on an unin- 
teresting Sunday morning, instead of going to church, you 
suddenly think, "Now what have I lived last year?" or 
something like that; and then it begins to dawn, and 
usually you catch your breath and don't go on thinking be- 
cause it is disagreeable. 

Now, you see, there is a resistance against the widening 
out in the first part of life — that great sexual adventure. 
When young people have resistance against risking their 
life, or against their social career, because it needs some 



107 



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1938 

concentration, some exertion, they are apt to get neurotic. 
In the second part of life those people who funk the natural 
development of the mind — reflection, preparation for the 
end — they get neurotic too. Those are the neuroses of the 
second part of life. When you speak of a repression of sex- 
uality in the second part of life, you often have a repression 
of this, and these people are just as neurotic as those who 
resist life during the first part. As a matter of fact it is the 
same people: first they don't want to get into life, they are 
afraid to risk their life, to risk their health, perhaps, or their 
life for the sake of life, and in the second part of life they 
have no time. So, you see, when I speak of the goal which 
marks the end of the second half of life, you get an idea of 
how far the treatment in the first half of life, and in the 
second half of life, must needs be different. You get a 
problem to deal with which has not been talked of before. 
Therefore I strongly advocate schools for adult people. You 
know, you were fabulously well prepared for life. We have 
very decent schools, we have fine universities and that is all 
preparation for the expansion of life. But where have you 
got the schools for adult people ? for people who are 40, 45, 
about the second part of life? Nothing. That is taboo; you 
must not talk of it; it is not healthy. And that is how they 
get into these nice climacteric neuroses and psychoses. 

4. Would you say that the attitude to be attained in the 
second half of life should be conceived as one of the objective 
type rather than as one of sublimation? 

This is a profound and very ticklish question. You see, in 
the first part of life it seems that sublimation is the thing 
indicated, and in the second part of life it seems that objec- 
tivity is indicated. Now, what is sublimation? This term has 
been taken from alchemy. It is really an alchemical term, and 
when you understand it in that sense it does not evoke the 
psychological fact which we understand as sublimation. 
Sublimation means that you don't do what you really wish 

108 



Questions and Answers at Oxford 

to do, and play the piano instead. That is nice, you see! Or, 
instead of giving way to your terrible passions, you go to 
Sunday school. Then you say you have sublimated it — "it"! 
It is, of course, an act of volition. I don't want to ridicule it 
at all, only sometimes it has a somewhat humorous aspect. 
Life, in spite of its misery, sometimes has an exceedingly 
humorous aspect. And so those people who perform miracles 
of moral self-restraint occasionally look rather comical. It 
would be bad if this were not so; there would be no fun in 
life at all. So even sublimation, which is a very useful and 
heroic thing, sometimes looks a bit funny; but it is never a 
serious thing, and it is certainly a way of dealing with the 
difficulties of life, all those difficulties that are forced upon 
us by our original nature. We have a very unruly and pas- 
sionate nature, perhaps, and we simply hurt ourselves if we 
live it in an uncontrolled way. Try to tell the truth. You 
would like to tell the truth, I am sure. Nobody likes to lie 
if he is not forced to. But just tell the truth for twenty-four 
hours and see what happens! In the end you can't stand 
yourself any more. So, you see, you can't let go of all your 
ambitions; you can't beat down every man who gets your 
goat; you can't express your admiration to every pretty 
woman you see. You must control yourself, after all, and 
that is also a considerable piece of sublimation. Take swear- 
ing: you must not use this impossible language, and so, in- 
stead of saying something disagreeable, you say something 
agreeable, as you have learnt, and all that continues — ethics, 
self-repression, and sublimation. And the worse your pas- 
sions are, the more you must use this sublimation mech- 
anism, otherwise you get into hot water. And you don't 
like that either. 

Now surely the passions are likely to be worse in the 
first half of life than in the second. There is a certain saying 
about the virtues of Solomon and David, who grew virtuous 
on account of their old age. There is also a French saying: 
"Si jeunesse savait, si vieillesse pouvait!" Enfin, in the second 



109 



1938 

half of life people have a chance to be more virtuous, some- 
how. They don't make enough use of that chance, and that 
comes from the fact that, unfortunately, they have learned 
more objectivity than sublimation. They say, for instance, 
"Oh well, after all, it seems to be human nature that one 
has certain weaknesses"; so they begin to allow themselves 
certain weaknesses, and gradually, the more the passions 
subside, the more you can yourself allow to side-step a little 
bit, to make little mistakes and to excuse yourself by saying 
it is not so terribly serious after all. An elderly gentleman, 
of course, can allow himself to show some tenderness to a 
nice young girl. Formerly he would have blushed; it would 
have been shocking; but now he can show his appreciation 
and everyone will say, "How nice and fatherly that is!" 
Also, ladies of a certain age can allow themselves to have 
very liberal views, and to express such views, and among 
those are things which they never would have said before 
in younger age, because it would have been too shocking. 
But when they are older one thinks, "That's nice; that 
shows a certain experience of life"; and they are very free 
in the way in which they express themselves. That is great 
objectivity; that is already the beginning of a certain philos- 
ophy that deals with facts as they are. It is perhaps a sort of 
disillusionment, or perhaps it is a sort of superiority gained 
through experience of life. You know that your virtues are 
not going to increase very considerably any more. Even your 
virtues grow gray hair and become bald. And so, what can 
you do? You say, "Oh, that's fine; you mustn't expect too 
much." And that is how we deal with ourselves in the 
second part of life. I do not speak of how the analyst ought 
to deal with his patients. There is an "ought," but there is a 
certain wisdom, and that belongs to the secrets of the art, 
which I shall not reveal here! 

5. Would you give us some hints with regard to religious 
experience? Is a so-called religious feeling a valid psycho- 
logical experience? 

no 






Questions and Answers at Oxford 

Well, I understand this question in the following way. Is 
the religious experience a valid experience? What is a valid 
experience? For instance, if a dog bites me, is that a valid 
experience? It is an experience; and if I have a religious 
experience, well, that is an experience too, and how shall I 
say that it is valid? You might say, "Oh, you have an 
imagination, you have an illusion; you think that you had 
a religious experience." Well, that does not concern me. 
Perhaps it is an illusion; how do I know? There is no 
criterion. I can only say, "I felt it like this." Of course, you 
can draw conclusions, and so you can ask, "Are the conclu- 
sions you draw from it valid?" For instance, you can draw 
the conclusion that you have an experience of your patron 
saint, who has appeared to you, or you have seen the Mother 
of God, or something like that. Then you can ask, "Is that 
valid? Is that interpretation valid?" You know how divided 
opinions are. Opinions are geographically rather different. 
For instance, a vision with us will be interpreted in terms of 
traditional Christianity; several hundred miles more South, 
in terms of Islamic mentality, and a little bit more East, it 
will be something else again; and sometimes there is a 
considerable difference in the interpretation of such ex- 
periences, but the experiences themselves are always valid — 
because they exist. For instance, is it a valid fact that there are 
elephants? You cannot even say that elephants are needed 
you only can say they exist. And so with such experiences 
The moment a man says, "I had a religious experience,' 
you can only say, "Well, you had a religious experience.' 
You can hold all sorts of views about it. You can say, "Oh, 
that was merely because your stomach was not all right, or 
you have slept badly." But that is merely explaining away 
the fact that he had such an experience. Of course you can 
say, "Well, that may be quite pathological." And in that 
case you must go to the Encyclopaedia Britannica and look 
up that kind of experience. All human experiences, you 
know, are registered in the Encyclopaedia Britannical And 



in 



! 1 



1938 

then you will be taught whether there was that experience, 
and of what kind. But it may be that it is not contained in 
the Encyclopaedia Britannica, and in that case you can say, 
"Well, I have never heard of such an experience; I don't 
know what it is," and you have got to explain it to yourself 
somehow. 

But, generally speaking, religious experience is something 
we are fairly well acquainted with. We have the history of 
religions; we have innumerable texts which inform us about 
the forms of religious experience. So we know it is a univer- 
sal phenomenon, and if it is absent, then we are confronted 
with an abnormal case. If somebody should say, "I don't 
know what a religious experience is," then I say that some- 
thing is lacking, because the whole world has at times 
religious experience, and you must have lost it somewhere 
if you don't know what it is. You are not in a normal frame 
of mind. There is some trouble. When that is the case, we 
know that some other type of psychological function is ex- 
aggerated through the admixture of the energy which 
should normally be in a religious experience. When you 
look at the life of a primitive tribe, as long as its religious 
life is well organized, things are in order. Now let a mis- 
sionary come in, who can sense nothing of primitive re- 
ligions and simply says, "This is all wrong," and then you 
see how the religious life of the tribe begins to disintegrate. 
This is one of the most extraordinary phenomena. Then 
people become greedy, they become fresh; then a mission 
boy steps up to me and says, "I'm a brother of yours, I'm 
just as good as you are, I know of those fellows Johnny, 
Marki, and Luki, all the bunch of them." That's how 
they talk. For years they sing a hymn in which there is a 
word meaning "hope," or "confidence." A missionary who 
listened to that hymn didn't know the accentuation of that 
word properly: If you put the accent on the last syllable it 
means "hope," and if you put it on the first, it means "lo- 
cust." So they sang, "Jesus is our locust," and that went 



112 



Questions and Answers at Oxford 

quite well, because the locust is a religious figure in Africa. 
So it meant something to them: "Jesus is a locust." But it 
would have meant precious little to them to sing, "Jesus is 
our hope and confidence." Even the highest people to whom 
I talked were quite unable to understand the elements of the 
Christian religion. How could they? I have not found one 
mission boy in Africa who could have understood the ele- 
ments of the Christian faith or what it is all about. The 
Pueblo Indians told me, "Oh, it is very nice what the priest 
is doing; he comes along every second month, and when 
we bury our dead he does very interesting things with them, 
but then we do the Indian medicine afterwards." You see, 
they always wrap up the dead twice, first according to the 
Christian rite and afterwards according to the Indian rite, 
and then it is finished. The same with birth; in Indian 
families everything is done twice. I said, "That's very nice, 
but do you know about Jesus?" And they say, "Oh yes, we 
know about Jesu, and the priest often talks with a man he 
calls Jesu." And I say, "What about the man?" and they 
say, "Oh, we don't know; we don't understand what he is 
all about." And they are highly civilized people, philosoph- 
ical people, even. The man who talked like that to me was a 
philosopher. He was very critical, he had an excellent 
psychology. He said, "Look at the white man's face: sharp 
lines, disappointed nose; and these Americans are always 
seeking something. We don't know what they are seeking; 
we think they are all crazy." He made the right diagnosis! 
Don't be too triumphant; it isn't only the Americans; it is 
the white man. And he felt it. It was the first time I got a 
really objective line on the white man. I saw suddenly with 
his eyes. Such people understand nothing of the Christian 
religion, what it really is. 

If you break up a tribe, they lose their religious ideas, the 
treasure of their old tradition, and they feel out of form 
completely. They lose their raison d'etre, they grow hope- 
less. That medicine man, with tears in his eyes, said, "We 



113 



1938 

have no dreams any more." "Since when?" "Oh, since the 
British are in the country." They are entirely depossedes, all 
the meaning goes out of their life; it does not make sense 
any more because we infect them with our insanity. Because 
it is an insanity: we have lost the religious order of life. That 
is my idea, and that is the point at which I will come to a 
conclusion. 



114 



DIAGNOSING THE DICTATORS 



♦ > 4+4+»4 »♦+»*»* 



H. R. Knickerbocker was one of the great American foreign 
correspondents, picturesque, intelligent, and tireless. Born in 
Texas in 1898, he was studying psychiatry in Munich at the 
time of Hitler's Beerhall Putsch in 1923, switched to journalism, 
and spent most of his career in Berlin. But he also covered the 
Soviet Union (Pulitzer Prize, 1931), the Italian-Ethiopian War, 
the Spanish Civil War, the Sino-Japanese War, Anschluss in 
Austria, and the Munich Pact. He reported the Battle of Britain 
and the war in the Pacific; in 1949, he died in a plane crash 
in Bombay. 

Knickerbocker visited Jung in Kiisnacht in October 1938, 
having come directly from Prague, where he had witnessed the 
breakup of Czechoslovakia. His interview, one of the lengthiest 
that Jung gave, was published in Hearst's International-Cosmo- 
politan for January 1939, and some of it appeared in a different 
form in Knickerbocker's book Is Tomorrow Hitler's? (1941). 
The Cosmopolitan article is the basis of the interview given 
here, which has been edited to eliminate material other than the 
questions and answers. The same issue of the magazine con- 
tained a biographical sketch of Jung by Elizabeth Shepley 
Sergeant (see p. 50). These.. Co/wo£o/«w«artklesjrn^d.e_ Jung's 
name famous in the United States. 



What would happen if you were to loc\ Hitler, Mussolini, 
and Stalin in a room together and give them one loaf of 
bread and one pitcher of water to last them a weeh? Who 
would get all the food and water, or would they divide it? 

I doubt if they would divide it. Hitler, being a medicine 
man, would probably hold himself aloof and have nothing 
to do with the quarrel. \He would be helpless because he 

ould be without his German people.) Mussolini and Stalin, 



w 



being both chiefs or strong men in their own right, would 



11= 



I f 



1938 

probably dispute possession of the food and drink, and 
S_talin, being the rougher and tougher, would probably get 
all of it. 

There, were two types of strong men in primitive society. 
One was the chief who was physically powerful, stronger 
than all his competitors, and the other .was the medicine 
man who was not strong in himself but was strong by 
reaspn_ol the power which the people projected- into him. 
Thus we had the emperor and the head of the religious 
community. The emperor was the chief, ' physicalty strong 
through his possession of soldiers; the seer was the medicine 
man, possessing little or no physical power but an actual 
power sometimes surpassing that of the emperor, because the 
people agreed that he possessed magic — that is, supeinatural 
ability. He could, for example, assist or obstruct the way to 
a happy life after death, put a ban upon an individual, a 
community or a whole nation, and by excommunication 
cause people great discomfort or pain. 

Now, \ Mussolini is the man of physical strength] When 
you see him you are aware of it at once. His body suggests 
good muscles. He is the chief by reason of the fact that he 
is individually stronger than any of his competitors. And it 
is a fact that Mussolini's mentality corresponds to his classi- 
fication: he has the mind of a chief. 

Stalin belongs in the same category. He is,, however, not a 
creator. Lenin created; Stalin is devouring the..blOQd. He is 
a conquistador; he simply took what Lenin rnade^and put 
his teeth into it and devoured it. He is not even creatively 
destructive. Lenin was that. He tore down the whole 
structure of feudal and bourgeois society in Russia and re- 
placed it with his own creation. Stalin is destroying that. 

Mentally, Stalin is not so interesting as Mussolini, who 
resembles him in the fundamental pattern of his personality, 
and he is not anything like so interesting as the medicine 
man, the myth — Hitler. 



nt 



Diagnosing the Dictators 

Anybody who ta\es command of one hundred and seventy 
million people as Stalin has done, is bound to be interesting, 
whether you li\e him or not. 

No, Stali n i sjust a brute — a shrewd peasant, an in- 
stinctive powerful,. beast— no doubt in that way far the most 
powerful ^f all the dictators. He reminds one of a) Siberian 
saber-toothed tigerjwith that powerful neck, those sweeping 
mustaches, and that smile like a cat which has been eating 
cream. I should imagine that Genghis Khan might have 
been an early Stalin. I shouldn't wonder if he makes himself 
Czar. 

Hitler is entirely different. His body does not suggest 
strength. The outstanding characteristic of his physiognomy 
\% its dreamy look. I was especially struck by that when I 
saw pictures taken of him during the Czechoslovakian 
crisis; there was in his. eyes the look of a seer. 

There is no question but that Hitler belongs in the cate- 
gory of the truly mystic medicine man] As somebody 
commented about him at the last Niirnberg party congress, 
since the time of Mohammed nothing like it has been seen 
in this world. 

This markedly mystic characteristic of Hitler's is what 
makes him do things which seem to «f Illogical, inexplic- 
able, curious and unreasonable. But consider— even the 
nomenclature of the Nazis is plainly mystic. Take the very 
name ofthe Nazi State. They caH'it the Third Reich. Why? 

Because the First Reich was the Holy Roman Empire and 
the second was the one founded by Bismarc\ and the third 
is Hitler's. 

Of course. But there is a deeper significance. Nobody 
called Charlemagne's kingdom the First Reich nor Wil- 
helm's the Second Reich. Only the Nazis call theirs the 
Third Reich. Because it has a profound mystical meaning: 
to every German the expression "Third Reich" brings echoes 



117 



1938 

in his unconscious of the Biblical hierarchy. Thus Hitler, 
who more than once has indicated he is aware of his mystic 
calling, appears to the devotees of the Third Reich as 
something more than mere man. 

Again, you take the widespread revival in the Third 
Reich of the cult of Wotan. Who was Wotan? God of 
wind. Take the name "Sturmabteilung" — Storm Troops. 
Storm, you see — the wind. Just as the swastika is a revolving 
form making a vortex moving ever toward the left — which 
means in Buddhist symbolism sinister, unfavorable, directed 
toward the unconscious. 

And all these symbols together of a Third Reich led by 
its prophet under the banners of wind and storm and whirl- 
ing vortices point to a mass movement which^ is _to. sweep 
the German people in a hurricane of unreasoning emotion 
on and on to a destiny which perhaps none but the seer, the 
prophet, the Fiihrer himself can foretell — and perhaps, not 
even he. 

But why is it that Hitler, who ma\es nearly every German 
jail down and worship him, produces next to no impression 
on any foreigner? 

Exactly. Few foreigners respond at all, yet apparently 
every German in Germany does. It is because Hitler is the 
mirror of every German's unconscious, but of course he 
mirrors nothing from a non-German. He is tELloudspeaker 
which magnifies the inaudible whispers of the German soul 
until theycan be heard by the German's unconscious ear. 

H£Js_the. firsi_rnan to tell every German what he has 
been thinking and feeling all along in his unconscious about 
German fate, especially since the defeat in the World War, 
and the one characteristic which colors £V£xy_Germah. soul is 
the typically German inferiority complex — the complex of 
the younger brother, of the one who is always a bit late to 
the Feast. Hitler's power is not political; it is magic. 

118 



* 



Diagnosing the Dictators 

What do you mean by magic? 

To understand this you must understand what the un- 
conscious is.|lt is that part of our mental constitution over 
which we have little control and which is stored with all 
sorts of impressions and sensations; which contains thoughts 
and even conclusions of which we are not aware.] 

Besides the conscious impressions which we receive, there 
are all sorts of impressions constantly impinging upon our 
sense organs of which we don't become aware because they 
are too slight to attract our conscious attention. They lie 
beneath the threshold of consciousness. But all these sub- 
liminal impressions are recorded; nothing is lost. 

Someone may be speaking in a faintly audible voice in 
the next room while we are talking here. You pay no atten- 
tion to it, but the conversation next door is being recorded 
in your unconscious as surely as though the latter were a 
dictaphone record. While you sit here my unconscious is 
taking in quantitites of impressions of you, although I am 
not aware of them and you would be surprised if I should 
tell you all that I have already learned unconsciously about 
you in this short space of time. 

Now, the secret of Hitler's power is not that Hitler has an 
unconscious more plentifully stored than yours or mine. 
Hitler's ;. secret is twofold: first, that his unconscious has ex- 
ceptional .access to his consciousness, and second, that he 
allows himself to be : mpved by it. He is like a man who 
Jistens mtently to a stream of suggestions in a whispered 
voice from a mysterious source and then acts upon them. 
In our case, even if occasionally our unconscious does reach 
us as through dreams, we have too much rationality, too 
much cerebrum to obey it. This is doubtless the case with 
Chamberlain, but Hitler listens and obeys. The true leader 
is always led. 

We can see it work in him. He himself has referred to his 
Voice. His Voice is nothing other than his own unconscious, 



119 



1938 

into which the German people have projected, their own 
selves; that is, the unconscious q£ seventy-eight million 
Germans. That is what makes him powerful. Without the 
German people, he would not be what h^e^seejnsjo Be..now. 

It isTiterally true when he says that whatever he is able to 
do is only because he has the German people behind him — 
or, as he sometimes says, because he is Germany. So, with his 
unconscious being the receptacle of the souls of seventy-eight 
million Germans, he is powerful, and with his unconscious 
perception of the true balance of political forces at home 
and in the world, he has so far been infallible. 

That is why he makes political judgments which turn out 
to be right against the opinions of all his advisers and 
against the opinions of all foreign observers. When this 
happens, it means only that the information gathered by his 
unconscious, and reaching his consciousness by means of his 
exceptional talent, has been more nearly correct than that of 
all the others, German or foreign, who attempted to judge 
the situation and who reached conclusions different from 
his. And of course, it also means that, having this informa- 
tion at hand, he is willing to act upon it. 

/ suppose that would apply to the three really critical de- 
cisions he made, each of which involved the acute danger of 
war: when he marched into the Rhineland in March, 1936, 
and into Austria in March, 1938, and when he mobilized 
and forced the Allies to abandon Czechoslovakia. Because 
in each one of these cases we k_now that many of Hitler's 
highest military advisers warned him against doing it, since 
they believed the Allies would resist, and also that if war 
came Germany would be bound to lose. 

Precisely! The fact is that Hitler was able to judge his 
opponents better than anyone else, and although it appeared 
inevitable that he would be met by force, he knew his op- 
ponents would give in without fighting. That must have 
been the case especially when Chamberlain came to Berch- 



IT 



Diagnosing the Dictators 

tesgaden. There for the first time Hitler met the elder 
British statesman. 

As Chamberlain proved later at Godesberg, he had come 
to tell him, among other things, not to go too far or Britain 
would fight. But Hitler's unconscious eye which so far has 
not failed him, read so deeply the character of the British 
Prime Minister that all the later ultimatums and warnings 
from London made no impression whatever on his uncon- 
scious : Hitler's unconscious knew — it didn't guess or feel, it 
knew — that Britain would not risk war. Yet Hitler's speech 
in the Sports Palace when he announced to the world a 
holy oath that he would march into Czechoslovakia October 
first, with or without the permission of Britain and France, 
indicated for the first and only time that Hitler the man, in 
his supremely critical moment, had fear of following Hitler 
the prophet. 

His Voice told him to go ahead, that everything would 
be all right. But his human reason told him the dangers 
were vast and perhaps overwhelming. Hence for the first 
time Hitler's voice trembled; his breath failed. His speech 
lacked form and trailed off at the end. What human being 
would not be afraid in such a moment? In making that 
speech which fixed the destiny of perhaps hundreds of 
millions of people, he was a man doing something of which 
he was deathly afraid but forcing himself to do it because 
it was ordered by his Voice. 

His Voice was correct. Now who knows but that his Voice 
may continue to be correct? If it does, it will be very inter- 
esting to observe the history of the next few years because, 
as he said just after his Czech victory, Germany stands today 
on the threshold of her future. That means he has just 
begun and if his Voice tells him that the German people are 
destined to become the lords of Europe and perhaps of the 
world, and if his Voice continues always to be right, then 
we are in for an extremely interesting period, aren't we? 



120 



121 



1938 



IS 



Yes, it jeerns that the German people are now convinced 
ihey-haxe found their Messiah. 

In a way, the position of the Germans is remarkably like 
that of the Jews of old. Since their defeat in the World 
War they have awaited a Messiah, a Savior. That 
characteristic of people with an inferiority complex. The 
Jews got their inferiority complex from geographical and 
4)oi.iticaI_f actors. They lived in a part of the world which 
jsasja^-parade ground for conquerors from both sides, and 
after their return from their first exile to Babylon, when 
they were' threatened with extinction by the Romans^they 
invented the solacing idea of a Messiah who was going to 
bring all the Jews together into a nation once more and 
save them. 

And the r Germans got their inferiority complex from 
comparable causes. They came up out of the Danube valley 
topjate, and founded the beginnings of their nation long 
after the French and the English were well on their way to 
nationhood. They got too late to the scramble- forlcotomes, 
and faxlhe foundation of empire. Then^ when they did get 
together and made „a. united nation, they looked around 
them and saw the British, the French, and_others with rich 
colonies and Idi'The equipment of grown-up nations, and 
they became jealous, resentful, like a. youngex brother whose 
older brothers have taken the lion's share of the inheritance. 

This was the original source of the German inferiority 
complex which has determined so much of their political 
thought and action and which is certamlyjdecisive of their 
wEpje policy today. It is impossible, you see, to talk about 
Hitler without talking about his people, because Hitler is 
only, the German people. 

It occurred to me that the last time I was in America that 
one could make an interesting geographical analogy about 
Germany. In America I noticed that somewhere on the East 
Coast there exists a certain class of people called "poor white 
trash" and I learned that they are largely descendents of 



122 



Diagnosing the Dictators 

early settlers, some of them bearers of fine old English 
names. The poor white trash were left behind when some 
of the people with energy and initiative climbed into their 
covered wagons and drove West. 

Then, in the Middle West you meet the people I consider 
the most stable in America; I mean psychologically the best 
balanced. Yet in some places farther west you meet some of 
the least-balanced people. 

Now, it seems to me that, taking Europe as a whole, and 
including the British Isles, you have in Ireland and Wales 
the equivalent of your West Coast. The Celts possess color- 
ful imaginative faculties. Then, to correspond to your sober 
Middle West, you have in Europe the English and the 
French, both of them psychologically stable peoples. But 
then you come to Germany, and just beyond Germany are 
the Slav mujiks, the poor white trash of Europe. 

Now, the mujiks are people who can't get up in the 
morning, but sleep all day. And the Germans, their next- 
door neighbors, are people who could get up, but got up too 
late. Don't you remember how the Germans even today 
represent Germany in all their cartoons? 



Yes, "Sleepy Michael," a tall, lean fellow in a nightgown 
and nightcap. 

That's right, and Sleepy Michael slept through the divi- 
sion of the world inlQjilaniaL^ 

got their inferiority complex, which made them want to 
fight the World War, and of course when they lost it their 
feeling _pf inferiority,. grew even worse, and developed a 
desire for a Messiah,, and so they have their Hitler. If he is 
not their true. Messiah, he is like one of the Old Testament 
prophets: his mission .is to unite his people and lead them 
to the Promised Land. This explains why the Nazis have to 
combat every form of religion besides their own idolatrous 
brand. I have no doubt but that the campaign against the 
Catholic and Protestant churches will be pursued with 



123 



f" 



1938 

jelentless and unremitting vigor, for the very sound reason, 
from the Nazi point of view, that they wish to substitute the 
new faith of Hitlerism. 

Do you consider it possible that Hitlerism might become for 
Germany a permanent religion for the future li\e Moham- 
medanism for the Moslems? 

I think it highly possible. Hitler's "religion" is the nearest 
^Mohammedanism, realistic, earthy, promising the maxi- 
mum of rewards in this life, but with a Moslem-like 
Valhalla into which worthy Germans may enter and con- 
tinue to enjoy themselves. Like Mohammedanism, it teaches 
tivtvirtue of the sword.Jffitler's first idea is to make his 
people powerful because the spirit of the Aryan German 
deserves to be supported by might, by muscle and steel. 

Of course, it is not a spiritual religion in the sense in 
which we ordinarily use the term. But remember that in 
the early days of Christianity it was the church which made 
the claim to total power, both spiritual and temporal! 
Today the church no longer makes this claim, but the claim 
has been taken over by the totalitarian states which demand 
not only temporal but spiritual power. 

Incidentally, it occurs to me that the "religious" character 
of Hitlerism is also emphasized by the fact that German 
communities throughout the world, far from the political 
power of Berlin, have adopted Hitlerism. Look at the 
South American German communities, notably in Chile. 

(It surprised me that in this analysis of the dictators nothing 
had been said of the influence of the fathers and mothers 
of the strong men. Doctor Jung assigned them no major 
role.) 

It is a great mistake to think that a dictator becomes so 
on account of personal reasons, such as that he had a strong 
resistance to his father. There are millions of men who 
resisted their fathers just as strongly as, say, Mussolini or 
Hitler or Stalin, but who never became dictators or any- 
thing like dictators. 

124 



Diagnosing the Dictators 

The law to remember about dictators is: "It is the perse- 
cuted one who persecutes." The dictators must have suffered 
from circumstances calculated to bring about dictatorship. 
Mussolini came at the moment when the country was in 
chaos, the workmen out of hand and a threat of Bolshevism 
was terrifying the people. 

Hitler came when the economic crisis had reduced the 
standard of living in Germany and increased unemploy- 
ment to an intolerable level, and after the great inflation of 
the currency which, although stabilization had come, had 
impoverished the whole middle class. Both Hitler and 
Mussolini received their power from the people and their 
power cannot be withdrawn. It is interesting that both 
Hitler and Mussolini base their power chiefly upon the 
lower middle class, workers and farmers. 

But to go on with the circumstances under which dic- 
tators come to power: Stalin came when the death of Lenin, 
unique creator of Bolshevism, had left the party and the 
people leaderless and the country uncertain of its future. 
Thus the dictators are made from human material which 
sjjffers„from overwhelming needs. The three dictators in 
Europe differ from one another tremendously, but it is not 
so much they who differ as it is their peoples. 

Compare the way the German people think and feel 
about Hitler with the way the Italians think and feel about 
Mussolini. The Germans are highly impressionable. They 
go to extremes; are always a bit unbalanced. They are 
cosmopolitan, world citizens; easily lose their national 
identity; like to imitate, other nations. Every German man 
would like to dress like an English gentleman. 

Not Hitler. He always has dressed in his own way, and 
nobody could ever accuse him of trying to loo\ as if he got 
his clothes on Savile Row. 

Precisely. Because Hitler is saying to his Germans, "Now, 
bei Gott, you have got to start being Germans!" 

The Germans are extraordinarily sensitive to new ideas, 



125 



1 



1938 

and when they hear one which appeals to them they are 
likely to swallow it uncritically, and for a time to be com- 
pletely dominated by it; but after a while they are equally 
likely to throw it violently away and adopt a newer idea, 
quite probably contradicting the first one entirely. This is 
the way they have run their political life. 

Italians are more stable. Their minds do not roll and 
wallow and leap and plunge through all the extravagant 
ecstasies which are the daily exercise of the German mind. 
So you find in Italy a spirit of balance lacking in Germany. 
When the Fascists took power in Italy, Mussolini did not 
even remove the king. Mussolini worked not with ecstasy 
of spirit, but with a hammer in his hand, beating Italy into 
the shape he wanted it, much as his blacksmith father used 
to make horseshoes. 

This Mussolini-Italian balance of temperament is borne 
out by the Fascist treatment of the Jews. At first they did 
not persecute the Jews at all, and even now, when for 
various reasons they have begun an anti-Semitic campaign, 
it has kept a certain proportion. I suppose the chief reason 
why Mussolini went in for anti-Semitism at all was that 
he became convinced that world Jewry was probably an 
incorrigible and effective force against Fascism — Leon Blum 
in France, especially, I think — and also, he wished to make 
his ties with Hitler more solid. 

So you see, while. Hitler is a medicine man, a form of 

spiritual vessel, a demi-deity or even better r ..a.mytivMusso- 
lini is a man, and therefore everything in Fascist Italy has 
a more human shape than it has in Nazi Germany, where 
things are run by revelation. Hitler as a man scarcely exists. 
At any rate, he disappears .behind his role. _ Mussolini, on 
the contrary, never disappears behind his role. His role 
disappears behind Mussolini. 

I saw the Duce and the Fiihrer together in Berlin the time 
Mussolini paid his formal visit; I had the good luck to be 
placed only a few yards away from them, and could study 

126 



I 



Diagnosing the Dictators 

them well. It was entertaining to see Mussolini's expression 
when they put on the goose step. If I had not seen it I 
should have fallen into the popular delusion that his adop- 
tion of the German goose step for the Italian army was in 
imitation of Hitler. And that would have disappointed me, 
because I had discerned in Mussolini's conduct a certain 
style, a certain format of an original man with good taste in 
certain matters. 

I mean, for example, that it was good taste of the Duce 
to keep the King. And his choice of title, "Duce" — not Doge 
as in old Venice, nor Duca, but Duce, the plain Italian 
word for leader — was original and in my opinion showed 
good taste. 

Now, as I observed Mussolini watching the first goose 
step he had ever seen, I could see him enjoying it with the 
zest of a small boy at a circus. But he enjoyed even more 
the stunt when the cavalry comes and the mounted drum- 
mer gallops ahead and takes his place on one side of the 
street while the band takes its place on the other. The 
drummer must gallop around the band and up to the 
front to take his station there, and this he does without 
touching the reins, guiding his horse only by pressure of 
the knees, since both hands are busy with the drums. 

On this occasion it was done magnificently and it pleased 
Mussolini so much he broke out laughing and clapped his 
hands. When he got back to Rome afterwards, he intro- 
duced the goose step and I am convinced he did it solely for 
his own aesthetic enjoyment. It really is a most impressive 
step. 

In comparison with Mussolini, Hitler made upon me the 
impression of a sort of scaffolding, of wood covered with 
cloth, an automaton with a mask, like. a ...robot, or a mask 
of a robot. During the whole performance he never laughed; 
it was as though he were in a bad humor, sulking. 

He showed no human sign, His expression was that of an 
inhumanly single-minded purposiveness, with no sense of 



127 



1938 

humor. He seemed as if he ; might be _the_double of a real 
jD^son" and that Hitler the man might perhaps be hiding 
inside like an appendix, and deljberaJeTysoJndmg in order 
not to disturb the mechanism. 

What an amazing difference there is between Hitler and 

Mussolini! ,1- couldn't help liking -Mussolini-. His bodily 

energy and elasticity are warm, human, and contagious. 
You^ave the homely feeling with Mussolini of being with 
a human being. With Hitler, you are scared. You know 
you would never be able to talk to that man; because there 
is nobody there. He is not a man, but a collective. He is not 
an individual; he is a whole nation. 

I take it to be literally true that he has no personal friend. 
How can you talk intimately with a nation? You can no 
more explain Hitler by the personal approach than you can 
explain a great work of art by examining the personality of 
the artist. The great work of art is a product of the time, of 
the whole world in which the artist is living, and of the 
millions of people who surround him, and of the thousands 
of currents of thought and the myriad streams of activity 
which flow around him. 

Thus it would be easier for Mussolini, who is only a 
man, to find a successor, than for Hitler. With good luck, 
I should think Mussolini might find someone to take his 
place, but I don't see how Hitler can. 

What if Hitler were to marry? 

He cannot marry. If he married, it would not be Hitler 
marrying. He would cease to be Hitler. But it is incredible 
that he should ever do so. I shouldn't wonder if it may be 
shown that he has sacrificed his sex life entirely to the 
Cause. 

This is not an unusual thing, especially for the type of 
medicine-man leader, although it is much less usual in the 
type of the chief. Mussolini and Stalin seem to lead entirely 
normal sex lives. Hitler's real passion, of course, is Germany. 

128 



Diagnosing the Dictators 

You could^say that he has a tremendous mother complex, 
which means that he will be under the domination either 
of ajvomah or of an idea. Idea is always female. Mind is 
female, because the head, the brain, is creative; hence like a 
womb, female. The unconscious of a man is always repre- 
sented by a woman; that of a woman always by a man. 

How important a role does what we call personal ambition 
play in the makeup of the three dictators? 

I should say that it plays a very minor role in Hitler. I 
don't think Hitler has personal ambition beyond that of 
the average man. Mussolini has more than average personal 
ambition, but it is not sufficient to explain his force. He also 
feels that he coincides with the national need. Hitler does 
not rule Germany. He is simply the exponent of the trend 
of things. This makes him uncanny and psychologically 
fascinating. Mussolini rules Italy to a certain extent, but 
for the rest he is an instrument of the Italian people. 

With Stalin it is different. His dominant characteristic 
is overwhelming personal ambition. He does not identify 
himself with Russia. He rules Russia like any Czar. 
Remember, he is a Georgian anyway. 

But how do you explain Stalin's having taken the course he 
has? It seems to me that Stalin, far from being uninterest- 
ing, is also enigmatic. Here you have a person who spent 
the greater part of his life as a revolutionist Bolshevik- H* s 
cobbler father and pious mother sent him to a theological 
school. In his early years he became a revolutionary and 
from then on for the next twenty-five years he did nothing 
but fight the Czar and the Czar's police. He was put into a 
dozen jails and broke out of all of them. Now, how do 
you explain that a man who had fought the Czar's tyranny 
all his life should suddenly become a kind of Czar himself? 
That is not remarkable. It is because you always become 
the thing you fight the most. What undermined the armed 



129 



1 



1938 

force of Rome? Christianity did. Because when the Romans 
conquered the Near East, they were conquered by its 
religion. 

When you fight a thing you have to get very close to it, 
and it is likely to infect you. You must know Czarism very 
weirin order to defeat it. Then, when you have driven out 
the Czar, you become a Czar yourself, just as a wild-animal 
hunter may become bestial. 

I know of one fellow who, after many years of big-game 
hunting in a proper sporting manner, had to be arrested 
because he took a machine gun to the animals. The man 
had become as blood-lustful as the panthers and lions he 
killed. 

Stalin fought so much against the Czar's bloody oppres- 
sion that he is now doing exactly the same as the Czar. In 
my opinion, there is no difference at all now between Stalin 
and Ivan the Terrible. 

But what about the fact reported by many, and observed by 
myself, that the standard of living in the Soviet Union has 
risen considerably and is still rising from the low point of 
the famine of 1933? 

Of course. Stalin can be a good administrator at the same 
time that he is a Czar. It would be a miracle if anybody 
could keep so naturally rich a country as Russia from being 
prosperous. But Stalin is not very original, and it is such 
bad taste for him to go about turning himself into a Czar 
so crudely, in front of everybody, without any .concealment 
at all! It is really proletarian! 

But you still have not explained to me how Stalin, the 
loyal Communist party man, the underground worker for 
what was then a highly altruistic ideal, should have changed 
into a power-grabber. 

In my opinion the change came about in Stalin during 
the 1918 revolution. Up to that time he had labored, un- 
selfishly perhaps, for the good of the Cause, and probably 



130 



Diagnosing the Dictators 

had never thought of personal power for himself, for the 
very good reason that there never appeared to be the shadow 
of a chance that he could even aspire to anything like per- 
sonal power. The question didn't exist for him. But during 
the revolution Stalin saw for the first time how you acquire 
power. I am sure he said to himself with astonishment, 
"But it is so easy!" He must have watched Lenin and the 
others reach the full rank of complete power, and have said 
to himself, "So that is how it is done! Well, I can go them 
one better. All you have to do is to do away with the fellow 
in front of you." 

He would certainly have done away with Lenin if Lenin 
had lived. Nothing could have stopped him, as nothing has 
stopped him now. Naturally, he wants his country to 
prosper. The more prosperous and greater his country is, 
the greater he is. But he cannot devote his full energies to 
promoting the welfare of his country so long as his personal 
drive for power is not satisfied. 

But surely he's got fullest power now. 

Yes, but he's got to keep it. He is surrounded by a pack of 
wolves. He must keep forever on the alert. I must say that I 
think we owe him a debt of gratitude! 

Why? 

For the wonderful example he has given the whole world 
of the axiomatic truth that Communism always leads to 
dictatorship. 

But now let us leave this aside and let me tell you what 
my therapy is. As a physician, I have not only to analyze 
and diagnose, but to recommend treatment. 

We have been talking nearly all the while about Hitler 
and the Germans, because they are so incomparably the 
most important of the dictator phenomena at the moment. 
It is for this, then, that I must propose a therapy. It is 
extremely difficult to deal with this type of phenomenon. 



131 



1938 

It is excessively dangerous. I mean the type of case of a 
man acting under compulsion. 

Now, when I have a patient acting under the command 
of a higher power, a power within him, such as Hitler's 
Voice, I dare not tell him to disobey his Voice. He won't 
do it if I do tell him. He will even act. more determinedly 
than if I did not tell him. All I can do is attempt, by inter- 
preting the Voice, to induce the patient to behave in a way 
which will be less harmful to himself and to society than 
if he obeyed the Voice immediately without interpretation. 
So I say, in this situation, the only way to save Democracy 
in the West— and by the West I mean America too— is not 
to try to stop Hitler. You may try to divert him, but to 
stop him will be impossible without the Great Catastrophe 
for all. His -Voice tells him to unite the German people and 
to lead them toward a better future, a bigger place on the 
earth, a position of glory and richness. You cannot stop him 
from trying to do that. You can only hope to influence the 
direction of his expansion. 

I say let him go East. Turn his attention away from the 
West, or rather, encourage him to keep it turned away.Xet 
him go to Russia. That is the logical cure for Hitler. 

I don't think Germany will be satisfied with a bit of 
Africa, big or small. Germany looks at Britain and at France 
with their magnificent colonial empires, and even at Italy 
with her Libya and Ethiopia, and thinks of her own size, 
seventy-eight million Germans as against forty-five million 
British in the British Isles and forty-two million French 
and forty-two million Italians and she is bound to think that 
she ought to have a place in the world not merely as large as 
that occupied by any one of the other three Western Great 
Powers, but much larger. How is she going to get that in the 
West without destroying one or more of the nations which 
now occupy the West? There is only one field for her to 
operate in, and that is Russia. 

132 



Diagnosing the Dictators 

And what will happen to Germany when she tries accounts 
with Russia? 

Ah, that's her own business. Our interest in it is simply 
that it will save the West. Nobody has ever bitten into 
Russia without regretting it. It's not very palatable food. It 
mighFtakelhe Germans a hundredyears to finish that meal. 
Meanwhile we should be ...safe, and by we, I mean all of 
Western civilization. 

Instinct should tell the Western statesmen not to touch 
Germany in her present mood. She is much too dangerous. 
Stalin's instinct was correct when it told him to let the 
Western nations have a war and destroy one another, while 
he waited to pick the bones. That would have saved the 
Soviet Union. I don't believe he ever would have entered 
the war on the side of Czechoslovakia and France, unless it 
were at the very end, to profit from the exhaustion of both 
sides. 

So I say, studying Germany as I would a patient, and 
Europe as I would a patient's family and neighbors, let her 
go into Russia. There is plenty of land there — one sixth of 
the surface of the earth. It wouldn't matter to Russia if 
somebody took a bite, and as I said, nobody has ever 
prospered who did. 

How to save your democratic U.S.A.? It must, of course, 
be saved, else we all go under. You must keep away from 
the craze, avoid the infection. Keep your army and navy 
large, but save them. If war comes, wait. 

America must keep big armed forces to help keep the 
world at peace, or to decide the war if it comes. You are 
the last resort of Western democracy. 

But how is the peace of Western Europe going to be pre- 
served by letting Germany "go East," as you put it, since 
England and France have now formally guaranteed the 
frontiers of the new rump state of Czechoslovakia? Won't 



r 33 



1938 

there then be war anyway if Germany attempts to incor- 
porate the rump state in her administrative system? 

England and France will not honor their new guarantee 
to Czechoslovakia any more than France Honored her 
previous pledge to Czechoslovakia. No nation keeps its 
word. A nation is a big, blind worm, following what ? Fate, 
jDerhaps. A nation has no honor; it has_ no word to keep. 
That is the reason why, in the old days, they .tried to have 
kings who did possess personal honor and a word. 
-■ Don't you _knpw that ...if you choose one hundred of the 
most intelligent people in the world and get them all to- 
gether, they are a stupid mob? Ten thqusand of "them 
together would have the collective intelligence of an alliga- 
tor. Haven't you noticed that at a dinner party the more 
people you invite the more stupid the conversation? In a 
crowd, the qualities which everybody possesses multiply, 
pile up, and become the dominant characteristics of the 
whole crowd. 

N_ot everybody has virtues, but everybody has^ the low 
animal instincts, the basic primitive caveman suggestibility, 
the suspicions and vicious traits of the savage. The result is 
that when you get a nation of many millions of people, it 
is not even human. It is a lizard or a crocodile or a wolf. 
Its statesmen cannot have a higher morality than the^animal- 
IIFe mass morality of the nation, althougJrandividjial states- 
men of the democratic states may attempt to behave a little 
better. 

For Hitler, however, more than for any other statesman 
in the modern world, it would be impossible to expect that 
he should keep the word of Germany against her interest, 
in any international bargain, agreement or treaty. Because 
Hitler is himself the nation. That, incidentally, is why 
Hitler always has to talk so loud, even in private conversa- 
tion — because he is speaking with seventy-eight million 



voices. 



134 



Diagnosing the Dictators 

That's what a nation is: a monster. Everybody ought to 

fear a_ nation. It is a horrible thing. How can such a thing 

have honor or a word? That's why I am for small nations. 

Small nations mean small catastrophes. Big nations mean 

big catastrophes. 

<■ 

The telephone rang. In the stillness of the study and a wind- 
less day without, I could hear a patient cry that a hurricane 
in his bedroom was about to sweep him off his feet. 

"Lie down on the floor and you will be safe," advised the 
doctor. 

It is the same advice the sage physician now gives to 
Europe and America, as the high wind of Dictatorship rages 
at the foundations of Democracy. 



*35 



F W 



JUNG DIAGNOSES THE 
DICTATORS 



*»«♦♦«»* » 



An English clergyman and psychologist, Howard L. Philp, 
evidendy having seen Knickerbocker's interview in the Cosmo- 
politan, arranged to have a talk with Jung at the home of 
their common friend, Dr. E. A. Bennet, during one of Jung's 
visits to London. He published the resulting article, entitled 
"Jung Diagnoses the Dictators," in The Psychologist (London), 
May 1939. Philp continued to pursue an interest in psychology, 
and after the war he wrote a book on Freud and religion and 
then embarked on a study of Jung. This resulted in an intensive 
correspondence, and Philp published Jung's letters of reply in 
Jung and the Problem of Evil (London, 1958); they are re- 
printed in CW 18, pars. 1584?!. London University awarded 
Philp a D.Litt. for his work on Freud and Jung. Later he 
became a Canon of Salisbury Cathedral. 

Philp's conversation with Jung in 1939 began with a recol- 
lection of the striking prophecy that Jung had made regarding 
Czechoslovakia, in his interview with Knickerbocker: "England 
and France will not honor their new guarantee to Czecho- 
slovakia any more than France honored her previous pledge to 
Czechoslovakia" (above, p. 134), and he went on to quote 
Jung's entire paragraph. 



The line that you forecast in that remark^ has been remark- 
ably fulfilled. And now, seeing what has happened to 
Czechoslovakia, have you anything you want to add to 
that? 
What, to Czechoslovakia ? 

England has now given a guarantee to Poland. What effect 
is this going to have on Hitler? 
That is very difficult to foresee. Hitler has no real personal 



[36 



Jung Diagnoses the Dictators 

psychology. He is a funny fellow. Hitler cannot give a 
promise. There is no person there to give the promise! He 
is the megaphone which voices the mood or the psychology 
of the eighty million German people. It has been said that 
more than half the Germans are at the back of him. This is 
probably true, but it is only part of the truth, for he repre- 
sents the unconscious mind not only of the people of Ger- 
many but of other countries. He voices the unconscious 
feelings of many English and French people. Some Checho- 
slovakians are dead against him but they, like many others, 
may feel a kind of admiration for him at the same time. 
They say: "Look what he is doing. Isn't he a devil!" In a 
sense they admire his power. 

The same kind of thing often happens when we read 
detective yarns or gangster stories. There is a part of us 
which becomes identified even with characters whom we 
dislike. Hitler voices what he wants and gets it. 

Has Hitler a special sensitivity? 

Decidedly. It is as if he possesses nervous tentacles stretch- 
ing out in every direction. This makes him sensitive to all 
his nation is feeling. Hitler falls into the class of the 
medicine man, the mystic, the seer. He has about him a 
dreamy look. In fact all this is the most significant element 
about him. He is not a leader in the sense that Mussolini is. 
When Hitler speaks he tells the Germans nothing new, but 
simply what they want to hear. Especially he is the mirror 
of that inferiority complex which is so markedly a German 
characteristic. 

One of the reasons for this is that the Germans are com- 
paratively young as a nation. When at last they became a 
unified nation they found that the British and French had 
been nations long before them and that they were too late 
in the scramble for colonies, whereas the British and French 
possessed rich colonies and all that belongs to a fully ma- 
tured nation. This made Germany jealous and resentful. 



!37 



1939 

Out of it there came the World War, and when Germany 
lost this she became even more dominated by an inferiority 
complex. Just as the Jews of old looked for a Messiah who 
would deliver them, so the Germans have looked for their 
savior, and in Hitler they believe they have found him. 

Hitler is simply what the Germans have made him. You 
cannot realize that too clearly. It is the key to understanding 
him and also the Germans themselves. He is like a mask, 
but there is nothing behind that mask. 

You have written a very important boo\ on psychological 
types. In what particular type would you place Hitler? 

I would not place him as a man, for individually he is 
quite uninteresting and unimportant. He is simply a great 
phenomenon. Seeing Hitler and Mussolini together as I 
have done is an unimaginable experience. Mussolini fills 
his uniform, but Hitler does not even fit into his clothes! 
Hitler is all mask. Mussolini has a certain vitality about 
him. He is a man— natural, warm, rough, and ruthless. If 
he says "no" he means no. He can speak as a real person. 
If you said to him : "You promised to do something and you 
lied," he would probably admit his lie and might even blush. 
He is more human than Hitler. He would know what he 
had promised and would know that he had lied. 

Another difference between them is in respect of their 
personal ambition. In Hitler ambition takes quite a small 
place. It is probably true to say that Hitler does not possess 
ambition beyond the ordinary man. But Mussolini has more 
than average ambition although this is insufficient to ex- 
plain his force. He feels that he corresponds to the national 
needs of Italy. Hitler does not rule Germany in the same 
way. He is sensitive to the trend of affairs in his country. 

Hitler cannot be understood apart from a consideration of 
the unconscious factors which play their part in his makeup 
and in fact in the world. It is certain that Hitler does not 
understand himself; if he did he would not be lacking in a 

138 



Jung Diagnoses the Dictators 

sense of humor and would not take himself so seriously. 
There are a number of ways in which unconscious forces 
play their part. The collective unconscious is a real fact in 
human affairs. It would need volumes to explain its various 
ramifications. WgLall participate in it. In one sense it is the 
^accumulated human wisdom which we unconsciously in- 
herit; in other senses it implies the common human emo- 
tions which we all share. 

It is understandable, therefore, that there is such a force 
as the collective unconscious of a nation; in Germany Hitler 
has an uncanny power of being sensitive to that collective 
unconscious. It is as if he knows what the nation is really 
feeling at any given time. 

Hitler has sacrified his individuality, or else does not 
possess one in any real sense, to this almost complete sub- 
ordination to collective unconscious forces and he is able to 
draw upon this hidden store. ^He himself has spoken of 
being able to hear a .voice! To him it is as if he does, and 
_the voice which he hears is that of the collective uncon- 
scious, especially of his own race. It is this fact which makes 
dealing with Hitler such a problem. He is virtually the na- 
tion. And the trouble about a nation is that it does not keep 
its word and has no honor, at least on the level of the col- 
lective unconscious. A nation as such, for all the claims of 
the totalitarian states, is a blind force. 

You can take a hundred very intelligent men and when 
you have them all together they may be nothing more than 
a silly mob. The crowd does not rise to the level of the 
highest intelligences in it, but the qualities which everyone 
has become the dominant characteristics of the whole 
crowd. 

One form under which the unconscious appears to a man 
is that of a female figure. In a similar way the personified 
unconscious appears to a woman in the guise of a man. 
One of the major problems is to gain the right kind of 
relationship to these figures in ourselves. You can have these 



139 






M 



fl 



1939 

figures in all forms. Take a perfectly naive individual and 
he will call the female figure "Mother"— meaning his own 
mother. Then she will die, although as a matter of fact in 
many men she never dies as a force. Unless a man gains 
a right relationship to this female figure he becomes pos- 
sessed by it and it becomes a disturbing disintegrating 
factor. 

Hitler has never gained a healthy relationship to this fe- 
male figure, which I call the anima. The result is that he is 
possessed by it. Instead of being truly creative he is conse- 
quently destructive. This is one reason why Hitler is dan- 
gerous: he does not possess within himself the seeds of 
true harmony. 

Is Hitler lively to change? Is it lively that one day he will 
lose his impersonal quality and perhaps even marry? 

It is not very probable. But you can expect almost any- 
thing from him. He will turn around and say something 
quite different from what he has said before. He will lose 
his job when he loses his voice. This might happen, but I 
do not think it will. Nor do I think that he will turn into 
a normal human being. He will probably die in his job. 

Dr. Jung, how do you \eep your patience with us and our 
puny problems, when Europe is falling apart and you have 
wor\ of world importance? 
Because the world problem starts with the individual. 

You mean the man in conflict with himself ultimately 
ma\es war and revolution? 

Certainly. And the man at peace with himself, who ac- 
cepts himself, contributes an infinitesimal amount to the 
good of the universe. Attend to your, private and personal 
conflicts and ypu will be reducing by^ one millionth mil- 
lionth the world conflict. 1 

1 The last two questions and answers were published, in a slightly 
different form, as part of E. S. Sergeant's article on Jung in Hearst's 
International-Cosmopolitan, January 1939, cited in the headnote to 
the foregoing interview by Knickerbocker. 



140 



A WARTIME INTERVIEW 



***** * t* *** 



In the summer of 1942, Switzerland was encircled by the Axis 
powers — on the west, France unoccupied and occupied was 
under Nazi control. For the Allies it was the darkest time of 
the war. The Swiss, in their neutrality, carried on an existence 
as nearly normal as they could. The Eranos Conference, at 
Ascona, went on with plans for its annual meeting in August, 
on the theme "The Hermetic Principle in Mythology, Gnosis, 
and Alchemy." Jung agreed to speak on an alchemical subject, 
"The Spirit Mercurius," 1 and when the Tribune de Geneve 
sent a journalist to interview him on "the spiritual values of the 
Swiss" in June, he was deep in research. The interviewer, 
Pierre Courthion, was a French-Swiss art historian and edu- 
cator, who had served the League of Nations as chief of the 
arts section of the International Institute for Intellectual Co- 
operation and had written and lectured widely on modern art. 
His article, published on June 19, 1942, is somewhat abridged 
in this version. 



C. G. Jung lives in Kiisnacht, at the back of a garden, in a 
comfortable house full of Biedermeyer furniture and family 
pictures. His secretary took me to a book-lined room, its 
tables piled with manuscripts, and I saw a very tall man 
coming toward me. He was dressed in dark clothes and 
wore a little black silk skull cap. Pushing aside with an 
enormous hand the lectern on which a volume of Berthelot's 
Greek texts 2 lay open, he offered me a seat and sat down 
himself in an armchair by the window. While he was in- 
quiring if I had had much trouble finding the place (which 

1 In CW 13; originally in Eranos-Jahrbuck 1Q42. 

2 M. Berthelot, Collection des anciens alchimistes grecs (Paris, 
1887-88), in 3 vols. Jung cited it in "The Spirit Mercurius" and 
other alchemical writings. 



141 



1942 



is secluded, at number 228 on the interminable Seestrasse, 
past the village and the Sonne hotel) I watched him against 
the light from windows through which the branches of the 
still-leafless trees could be seen trembling in the mist. 



Jung lighted his copper-stemmed pipe and told me about his 
life; his travels as an "itinerant psychologist" to India, then 
Africa, 3 to study the psychology of primitive people. From 
Kenya and Uganda he went to the Sudan and Khartoum, 
then down the Nile to investigate the influence of the 
African mentality on Egypt. "In Egypt," he said, "the exter- 
nal appearance is Asiatic, but there is a religious influence 
that is entirely African." And, Jung told me humorously, 
when he got back to Switzerland he realized that he had 
gone a long way looking for what he could have found 
close to home, in the Lotschental, 4 for example. "These 
studies," he said, "are not easy. You have to get people's 
confidence before they will tell you about themselves. But 
what surprises! Things you read about in Paracelsus still 
exist. I've met sorcerers, spell-casters. Did you know that 
there are still some places in Bern or St. Gall where they 
make pacts with the devil and sign them with blood ? That 
they practice magic on cows? In the Swiss soul, as all hu- 
man souls, there are regions we do not know about. . . ." 



"What will individuals of different types tend to do? That's 
very important to know. The rest is just mechanics. The 
creative instinct, the will of the creator, that is what mat- 
ters. In other words: With the devil's grandmother for a 
mother and the devil for a father, how does one get to be 
the good Lord's child?" 

3 Jung visited East Africa in 1925, India not until 1938. 

4 A secluded valley in the Bernese Alps of nothern Canton Valais. 
Its people preserve archaic folk customs. 

142 



A Wartime Interview 



Jung has a laugh whose sonority is somehow intentionally 
reassuring. When I asked him about the signs and symbols 
being studied again today, he said: "The symbol has a very 
complex meaning because it defies reason; it always presup- 
poses a lot of meanings that can't be comprehended in a 
single logical concept. The symbol has a future. The past 
does not suffice to interpret it, because germs of the future 
are included in every actual situation. That's why, in eluci- 
dating a case, the symbolism is spontaneously applicable, 
for it contains the future; within its zone of mystery, it 
comprises the individual's defense. For example, a develop- 
ing disease always has a counter-aspect: together with fever 
as a germ infection, there is simultaneously fever as a bodily 
reaction and defense. Why, the dream is even a defense. In 
explaining dreams from a causal point of view, Freud got 
to their primary causes. But what interests me is why a 
person dreams of one thing rather than another. If you 
look at a dream conscientiously you can see that some of 
the details in it have been changed from impressions that 
you had before. Thus the dream invents an accident when 
it needs one, when it wants an accident. In the end, we 
have to ask what the aim of the dream is from a teleological 
point of view. Why does this person's unconscious wish to 
show him an image like that? And here is where I learned 
a great deal from primitive people: the dream is a product 
of the imagination, a gallery of images, images of protection 
from some blow that is threatening; the function of the 
dream is to compensate the conscious attitude. I believe that 
what dreams show us in vivid and impressive images are 
our vulnerable points. That is why the medieval doctors 
asked about dreams. So we must observe the same rule. A 
Dutchman said, 'Magic is the science of the jungle,' and 
the Chinese claim that when we wake up troubled it is be- 
cause the soul— \uei, the body-soul, which is less spiritual 
than the spirit and causes apparitions (ghosts) after death — 
is hovering above us. The imagery of alchemy is found all 
over the world." 

J 43 



1942 

Jung's firm strength surprised me, and the modest way 
he had of expressing his experience of the human soul in a 
few words (on a scale that ranges from the greatest com- 
mon sense to extreme intuition). He spoke slowly, distinct- 
ly; then, as if perceiving my confusion in traversing this 
obscure psychological domain where he himself moves so 
easily, he stopped for a moment and got up to switch on an 
overhead lamp. Its reflections made the shadows of his face 
look purple. 

Our interview continued between two lights: the fading 
light of day (thick fog right up to the windows now) and 
the still tentative light from the lamp, filtered through its 
yellow shade. In the confined space of the room, fantastic, 
flickering apparitions came to life. 

Still illustrating the premonitions he had mentiond be- 
fore, Jung said to me, "Take the tendency to commit sui- 
cide — right from the beginning. What happens? You don't 
pay attention on the street. One day you fall down stairs. 
Then there is a little automobile accident. It doesn't look 
like anything. Yet these are the preliminaries. Chance? 
Primitive people never mention chance. That is why I say, 
'Be careful when you are not at one with yourself, in your 
moments of dissociation.' " 

Jung sat up in his big green armchair and put down his 
pipe, by that gesture emphasizing what he was about to say. 
Weighing each word, he stated, "One must never give way 
to fear, but one must admit to oneself that one is afraid." 
Yet knowing about a repression does not always cure it; 
sometimes one has to confess to it openly. Then the doctor 
told me an ultra-simple tale about a hotel maid who came 
to him seeking treatment for the agonies of insomnia. He 
explained to her about sailing a boat, how one lets oneself 
go with the wind. "When you want to sleep," he told her, 
"go with the wind." And in the rhythmic reassurance of 
being rocked the young woman found sleep again. 6 

5 Jung describes this case in more detail in his interview with 
Duplain, "On the Frontiers of Knowledge," below, pp. 4178. 






A Wartime Interview 

"You see," he said, "nothing is more thrilling than trying 
to understand. One comes to see that life is great and beau- 
tiful, that nonsense and stupidity do not always triumph." 

Carl Gustav Jung stood up, and it seemed to me that I 
was now facing another man, pale, with an arched nose, 
almost pointed at the tip. He took off his cap (his fore- 
head is higher than I expected) and led the way to another 
room, equally encumbered with old books and work tables, 
where he showed me some remarkable paintings on cloth 
made by Tibetan monks. The door onto the stairs was 
partially open and the big house was full of voices and 
laughter. A burst of sound escaping from a piano some- 
where brought us a phrase of Schumann. 

My host accompanied me to the garden gate. In the night 
fog we spoke sadly of the replica of servitude to which 
many individuals are reduced. But as I grasped Jung's 
powerful hand in mine, I felt passing into me the vibrant, 
tenacious, communicative warmth of an immense hope. 

[Translated by Jane A. Pratt] 



144 



r 45 



FROM CHARLES BAUDOUIN'S 
JOURNAL: 1945 



Zurich. Wednesday, January 10, 1945 1 

1 am beginning to know the streets: the stairs to the ter- 
race of the Sankt Peter church that have to be climbed 
down carefully because of the snow; the bridges to be 
crossed over the swift sea-green Limmat under the excited, 
discordant cries of the gulls; the slopes going up the right 
bank. 

After I reached the Stadelhofen station, the train got me 
to Kusnach't in a few minutes. Then a quarter of an hour 
on foot along the Seestrasse, the big straight road that runs 
a short distance back of the lake. The snow is still thick and 
white. The well-to-do villas are widely spaced and with- 
drawn into gardens and parks full of firs; one hears the 
sound of a saw felling a tree. Then comes the Jung house, 
its round tower capped with a cone of gray tile; recogniz- 
able by the inscription over the doorway : Vocatus atque non 
vocatus Deus aderit. 

The master came down the steps to greet me. He was 
wearing a skull cap that he did not take off later. For he is 
still convalescing from a fracture with various complications 
— embolism and thrombosis — which requires a lot of care. 
He has not been able to go back to his courses in Basel. 2 But 
he is progressing; the gray eyes that sometimes look quite 
small have lost nothing of their malice; the color of the face 

iFrom L'Oeuvre de Jung (1963); see above, p. 76. This extract 
also appeared, in French, in Contact with Jung (1966). 

2 In 1943 Jung was named professor of medical psychology at 
Basel University but had to resign soon afterward on account of 
illness. 



146 



From Charles Baudouin's Journal 

is good and when he gives himself up to one of his hearty 
laughs over some story it becomes frankly red. 

We lunched in a great high room, like the hall of a 
castle, reigned over by a chimney and a series of good repro- 
ductions of familiar paintings, notably from the Louvre: 
Ghirlandaio's The Old Man and the Child, an Adoration, 
a David and Goliath, and the famous portrait of Galileo 
which Jung pointed out with special partiality: "That fel- 
low," he said, "is my friend, with his beautiful child's eyes." 
At the table there were four of us: Mrs. Jung, the secretary, 
the master, and myself. 

After lunch he and I went up to have coffee in his study, 
where there is a tall green tile stove that he stroked, saying 
"It's human." The window opens onto the garden, which 
runs down to the lake, and there is a shed for small boats. 
The situation is something like that of Spitteler's house on 
the edge of Lake Lucerne, except that there the slope is 
much greater and the garden more spacious. Among his 
abundant books Jung is particularly proud of his collection 
of unintelligible alchemical texts, which is richer than the 
collection in the library of Basel. He showed me several of 
them. Alchemy fascinates him, he said. 

I submitted to him some of my subjects' dreams taken 
from among those that I am now presenting in my lec- 
tures at Zurich University. At Madeleine's dream of "the 
man with serpent feet" he got up, fetched a Gnostic book, 
and turning without hesitation to the page showed me a 
reproduction of a gem representing the son of Chaos — "the 
man with serpent feet." 

He thinks that the process of integration into a group and 
the process of individuation are two aspects of the same 
phenomenon. In India there are rites of circumambulation 
in the cults of Shiva and his Shakti. 

Jung spoke of the "possession" rampant in Hitler's Ger- 
many, upon which rationalistic Anglo-Saxon arguments 



147 



1945 

can get no purchase. In this unhappy time Jung believes 
only in inner action by the individual. The press, propa- 
ganda, meetings, all "come to nothing." After such a calam- 
ity to a people, what will become of them? Maybe, when 
one has lost all, nothing remains but to become a saint. 
Even now there are immense prayer meetings in Germany: 
they congregate secretly at night and pray for deliverance 
from the Antichrist. 

At 3 o'clock I left Jung. His pupil, Mrs. Jolande Jacobi, 
was waiting for me at Stadelhofen. She took me home and 
gave me tea. She is in mourning, having received news of 
the death of her husband and several members of her 
family in Budapest. . . . Concerning the man with serpent 
feet, she completed the information Jung had provided by 
telling me that he was also an aspect of Pan, and Pan was, 
moreover, the god of epilepsy! (The sight of an epileptic 
had been the starting point of my subject's dream.) 

[Translated by Jane A. Pratt] 



1 



THE POST-WAR 

PSYCHIC PROBLEMS OF 

THE GERMANS 



******** MMMtmilll ll 



Four days after the unconditional surrender of the German 
Army at Rheims, this interview by Peter Schmid was published 
in Die Weltwoche (Zurich) for May n, 1945, under the title 
"Werden die Seelen Frieden finden?" (Will the Souls Find 
Peace?). The interview probably took place somewhat earlier. 
A partial translation was published by the newspaper PM (New 
York), May 10, 1945. 



Do you not thin\ that the end of the war will bring about 
great changes in the psyche of Europeans, particularly the 
Germans, who are now awakening as though from a long 
and terrible dream? 

Indeed I do. As to the Germans, we have a psychic prob- 
lem ahead of us the magnitude of which cannot yet be fore- 
seen, though its outlines can already be discerned in the 
cases I am treating. For the psychologist one thing is clear, 
and that is that he ought not to make the popular senti- 
mental distinction between Nazis and opponents of the 
regime. Two cases I am now treating are both outspoken 
anti-Nazis, and yet their dreams show that behind all the 
decency the most pronounced Nazi psychology is still alive 
with all its violence and savagery. When Field Marshal 
von Kiichler, 1 questioned by a Swiss reporter about the 
German atrocities in Poland, exclaimed indignantly: "Ex- 

1 Georg von Kiichler (1881-196?), led the Nazi invasion of 
western Poland in September 1939. He was tried and sentenced to 
prison as a war criminal by the Nuremberg Tribunal. 



148 



149 



1945 

cuse me, that wasn't the Wehrmacht, it was the Party!" 
this proved that a division into decent and indecent Ger- 
mans is thoroughly naive. All of them, whether consciously 
or unconsciously, actively or passively, have their share in 
the horrors; they knew nothing of what was going on and 
yet they did know, as though party to a secret contrat genial. 
For the psychologist the question of collective guilt, which 
worries politicians so much and will go on worrying them, 
is a fact, and it will be one of the most important tasks of 
therapy to get the Germans to admit this guilt. Even now 1 
am receiving many applications from Germans who want 
to be treated by me. If they come from those "decent Ger- 
mans" who want to foist the guilt onto a couple of men in 
the Gestapo, I regard the case as hopeless. I shall have no 
alternative , but to answer the applications with a question- 
naire asking certain crucial questions, like "What do you 
think about Buchenwald?" Only when a patient sees and 
admits his own responsibility can individual treatment be 
considered. 

But how was it possible that the Germans, of all people, got 
themselves into this hopeless psychic mess? Could it have 
happened to any other nation? 

Here you must allow me to go back a bit and to recapitu- 
late my theory as to the general psychic antecedents of this 
National Socialist war. Let us take a small practical exam- 
ple as a starting point. One day a woman comes to me and 
breaks out into the wildest accusations against her husband : 
he is a veritable devil who torments and persecutes her, 
and so on and so forth. In reality the good man is a per- 
fectly respectable citizen, quite innocent of any such de- 
monic intentions. Where does this crazy idea come from in 
this woman? It is the devil in her own soul that she is 
projecting; she has transferred her own wishes and her 
own rages to her husband. I make this clear to her; she 
admits it and becomes a contrite little lamb. Everything 



150 



\ 



The Post-War Psychic Problems of the Germans 

seems to be in order. And yet that is just the thing I find 
most disquieting, because I don't know where the devil, 
who had previously attached himself to the image of the 
husband, has gone to. Exactly the same thing happened on 
a large scale in the history of Europe. For primitive man 
the world is full of demons and mysterious powers which 
he fears; the whole of Nature is animated by these forces, 
which are nothing but man's own inner powers projected 
into the outside world. Christianity and modern science 
have de-demonized Nature, which means that the Euro- 
pean has consistently taken back the demonic powers out 
of the world into himself, and has steadily loaded his un- 
conscious with them. Out of man himself the demonic 
powers rise up in revolt against the supposed spiritual con- 
straints of Christianity. The demons begin to break out in 
Baroque art: the columns writhe, the furniture sprouts 
satyr's feet. Man is slowly transformed into a uroboros, 
the "tail-eater" who devours himself, from ancient times a 
symbol of the demon-ridden man. The first perfect example 
of this species was Napoleon. 

The Germans display a specific weakness in the face of 
these demons because of their incredible suggestibility. This 
shows itself in their love of obedience, their supine submis- 
sion to commands, which are only another form of sug- 
gestion. This hangs together with the general psychic in- 
feriority of the Germans, the result of their precarious posi- 
tion between East and West. Of all the Western peoples, 
they were the ones who, at the general exodus from the 
Eastern womb of the nations, remained too long with their 
mother. Finally they did get out, but arrived too late, while 
the mujik never broke loose at all. Hence the Germans are 
profoundly troubled with a national inferiority complex, 
which they try to compensate by megalomania: "Am deut- 
schen Wesen soil die Welt genesen" 2 — though they are none 

2 Roughly, "the German spirit will be the world's salvation." A 
Nazi slogan derived from a poem by Emanuel Geibel (1815-84), 



151 



1945 

too comfy in their own skins! It is a typical adolescent psy- 
chology, apparent not only in the extraordinary prevalence 
of homosexuality but in the absence of an anima figure in 
German literature (the great exception here is Goethe). It 
is also apparent in German sentimentality and "Gemutlich- 
keit," which is really nothing but hardness of heart, un- 
feelingness, and soullessness. All those charges of soulless- 
ness and bestiality which German propaganda levelled at 
the Russians apply to themselves; Goebbels' speeches are 
nothing but German psychology projected upon the enemy. 
The immaturity of the personality also displayed itself in a 
terrifying way in the German General Staff, whose lack of 
character resembled the squashiness of a mollusc inside a 
panzer. 

Germany has always been the land of psychic catastro- 
phes: the Reformation, peasant wars and wars of religion. 
Under National Socialism, the pressure of the demons be- 
came so great that they got human beings into their power 
and blew them up into lunatic supermen, first of all Hitler 
who then infected the rest. All the Nazi leaders were pos- 
sessed in the truest sense of the word, and it is assuredly no 
accident that their propaganda minister was branded with 
the ancient mark of the demonized man — a clubfoot. Ten 
per cent of the German population today are hopeless psy- 
chopaths. 

You have been talking of the psychic inferiority and de- 
monic susceptibility of the Germans, but do you thin\ this 
also applies to us Swiss, so far as we are Germanic in 
origin? 

We are insulated against this susceptibility by the small- 
ness of our country. If eighty million Swiss were piled to- 
gether the same thing might happen, for the demons hurl 

"Deutschlands Beruf." Geibel's lines became famous when Wilhelm 
II quoted them (inaccurately, as above) in a speech at Munster in 
1907. 

152 



The Post-War Psychic Problems of the Germans 

themselves by preference on the mass. In any collectivity 
man is rootless and then the demons can get him. Hence the 
technique of the Nazis never to form individuals but only 
huge masses. Hence, too, the faces of the demonized man 
of today: lifeless, rigid, blank. We Swiss are protected 
against these dangers by our federalism and our individual- 
ism. Such a mass accumulation would not be possible with 
us as it was in Germany, and in this isolation lies perhaps 
the therapy with which one can conquer the demons. 

But what will happen if this therapy is carried out by bombs 
and guns? Won't military subjection of the demonized 
nation merely intensify the feeling of inferiority and ma\e 
the disease worse? 

The Germans today are like a drunken man who wakes 
up the next morning with a hangover. They don't know 
what they've done and don't want to know. The only feel- 
ing is one of boundless misery. They will make convulsive 
efforts to rehabilitate themselves in face of the accusations 
and hatred of the surrounding world, but that is not the 
right way. The only redemption lies, as I have already indi- 
cated, in a complete admission of guilt. Mea culpa, mea 
maxima culpa! Out of honest contrition for sin comes divine 
grace. That is not only a religious but also a psychological 
truth. The American treatment of conducting the civilian 
population through the concentration camps and letting 
them see all the abominations committed there is therefore 
quite right. Only, the object lesson should not be driven 
home with moral instruction; repentance must come from 
inside the Germans themselves. It is possible that positive 
forces will emerge from the catastrophe, that from this in- 
troversion prophets will once again arise, for prophets are as 
characteristic of this strange people as the demons. Anyone 
who falls so low has depth. In all probability there will be 
a miraculous haul of souls for the Catholic Church — the 
Protestant Church is too split up. There are reports that the 



153 



1945 

general misery has reawakened the religious life in Ger- 
many; whole communities fall to their knees in the eve- 
nings, beseeching God to deliver them from the Antichrist. 

Then one can hope that the demons will be banished and 
that a new and better world will rise on the ruins? 

No, the demons are not banished, that is a difficult task 
that still lies ahead. Now that the angel of history has 
abandoned the Germans, the demons will seek a new victim. 
And that won't be difficult. Every man who loses his 
shadow, every nation that falls into self-righteousness, is 
their prey. We love the criminal and take a burning interest 
in him because the devil makes us forget the beam in our 
own eye when observing the mote in our brother's and in 
that way outwits us. The Germans will recover when they 
admit their guilt and accept it; but the others will become 
victims of possession if, in their horror at the German guilt, 
they forget their own moral shortcomings. We should not 
forget that exactly the same fatal tendency to collectivization 
is present in the victorious nations as in the Germans, that 
they can just as suddenly become a victim of the demonic 
powers. "General suggestibility" plays a tremendous role in 
America today, and how much the Russians are already 
fascinated by the devil of power can easily be seen from the 
latest events, which must dampen our peace jubilations a 
bit. The most sensible in this respect are the English: their 
individualism saves them from falling for the slogan, and 
the Swiss share their amazement at the collective unreason. 

Then we must anxiously wait and see which way the 
demons go next? 

I have already suggested that the only salvation lies in 
the piecemeal work of educating the individual. That is 
not as hopeless as it may appear. The power of the demons 
is immense, and the most modern media of mass suggestion 
—press, radio, film, etc. — are at their service. But Christian- 
ity, too, was able to hold its own against an overwhelming 



154 



The Post-War Psychic Problems of the Germans 

adversary not by propaganda and mass conversions — that 
came later and was of little value — but by persuasion from 
man to man. And that is the way we also must go if we 
wish to conquer the demons. 

I don't envy you your task in writing about these things. 
I hope you will succeed in presenting my ideas in such a 
way that people won't find them too strange. Unfortunately 
it is my fate that other people, especially those who are 
themselves possessed by demons, think me mad because 
I believe in these powers. But that is their affair; I know 
they exist. There are demons all right, as sure as there is a 
Buchenwald. 



155 



FOUR ''CONTACTS WITH JUNG" 



U4HIH I M II MI II MI II I 



Michael Fordham, the leading medical analyst among British 
Jungians and co-editor of the Collected Works, edited Contact 
with Jung (London, 1966), a collection of "essays on the in- 
fluence of Jung's work and personality" by forty-two of Jung's 
pupils in Europe, England, America, and Israel. Excerpts from 
four vivid and immediate recollections, dating from the late 
1930's to the late 1950's, have been chosen. (The selections from 
Charles Baudouin's journal for 1945 and 1954, in the present 
volume, were also included, in French, in Contact with Jung.) 

A. I. Allenby (Oxford) 

I first got in touch with Jung after the end of the second 
world war. I then wrote to him, and told him who I was 
and what I was doing, which included writing a thesis on 
the psychology of religion. With his reply Jung sent the 
manuscript of his article on the Trinity 1 — a new version 
which had not yet appeared in print. This was generous in- 
deed, and an endearing token of encouragement for the 
complete stranger that I was to him then. Only about a 
month before his death I again received a letter from Jung, 
in reply to one of mine, in which he went with great care 
into all the questions I had raised. It ended with these 
words: "My best wishes for any further discoveries you may 
make." 

This is the first characteristic one encountered in Jung: 
his respect for the other person, whoever he or she might be, 
and his concern for the individual value in anyone. When 
I first went to visit him at Kiisnacht, I was full of appre- 

1 "A Psychological Approach to the Dogma of the Trinity," CW 
11, originally was a lecture at the Eranos Conference in 1940. The 
"new version" was prepared for Symbolic des Geistes (1948). 

156 



Four "Contacts with Jung" 

hension as to how I should fare in meeting the great man — 
but the moment I entered his intimate little study I felt 
completely at ease. 



Once he wanted me to understand that one should not feel 
guilty about events which happen on their own account. 
"They are just like acts of God," he said. "Think of it as if 
a building had been hit by lightning; that, also, is an act of 
God. There was a church in a Swiss village which had been 
damaged by lightning, and the pastor went round the vil- 
lage to collect money for the repairs, and one shrewd old 
peasant said to him: 'What — you are not going to make 
me give you anything, if he destroys his own house!' That 
man had got it right," Jung said and laughed. 

On another occasion Jung explained to me what happens 
when one mistrusts one's feelings and refuses to act on 
them. "You can see from the window my boathouse down 
by the lake," he said. "Some time ago I went for a swim 
and then lay on the balcony of the boathouse to sun myself. 
The level of the lake was so high that the boathouse was 
surrounded by water. There came my dog in search of me. 
He could not see me, and was not sure whether I was there. 
Being of a somewhat cowardly disposition and not very 
fond of the wet, the dog first put one paw into the water, 
then withdrew it, and then another paw and withdrew it, 
too. And this went on for some time. Eventually I made 
the faintest little noise, and the dog shot through the water 
and up the steps of the boathouse in one jump. The dog 
is conditioned by instinct and has no will-power of his own, 
except when a little noise from his master releases it." Jung, 
of course, wanted to convey to me, although he left it to me 
to draw the conclusion, that a person who mistrusts his own 
feelings or thoughts and does not utilize his will to put them 
to the test is hardly distinguishable from an animal; as a 
conscious human being he hardly exists. 



157 



1939-1958 

Another time Jung reverted to the problem of self-doubt, 
using a further example by way of illustration. "Our needs 
and desires are always active," he said. "Trouble occurs 
only if they are active in the unconscious, if we do not take 
them consciously in hand so as to give them a definite form 
and direction. If we refuse to do this we are dragged along 
by them and become their victim. Then they are like a 
sledge rushing downhill in the snow, with no one at the 
steering-ropes. You must place yourself firmly at the steer- 
ing-ropes, not hang on at the back or, worse, be unwilling 
to take the ride at all — that only lands you in panic. Our 
unconscious energies give momentum to our journey 
through life and, if we direct their course, our actions will 
have strength; we may even sense that God is behind us." 



He told me that he once met a distinguished man, a 
Quaker, who could not imagine that he had ever done any- 
thing wrong in his life. "And do you know what happened 
to his children?" Jung asked. "The son became a thief, and 
the daughter a prostitute. Because the father would not 
take on his shadow, his share in the imperfection of human 
nature, his children were compelled to live out the dark 
side which he had ignored." 



I remember Jung stating on one occasion: "Every human 
being is inherently a unique and individual form of life. 
He is made like that. But there is something which man 
can do over and above the given material of his nature, and 
that is he can become conscious of what makes him the 
person he is, and he can work consciously towards relating 
what is himself to the world around him. And," Jung added 
reflectively, "this is perhaps all we can do." 

Another time he said to me, as if he were speaking to 
himself: "This is how you must live — without reservation, 



158 



Four "Contacts with Jung" 

whether in giving or withholding, according to what the 
circumstances require. Then you will get through. After 
all, if you should still get stuck, there is always the en- 
antiodromia from the unconscious, which opens new ave- 
nues when conscious will and vision are failing." 

Kenneth Lambert (London) 



One way to express a personal debt to Jung is to recall cer- 
tain personal experiences of him in action as a person at 
certain points of time, communicating his experience to 
another person — as compared with him as a theoretician. 
I have two such memories. The first was of him in London 
in 1939, when he answered questions put to him by a group 
of doctors, psychotherapists, and clergymen, including a 
bishop. The result was a series of communications on "The 
Symbolic Life," 2 and the poverty and neurotic potential of 
individuals and groups for whom such an experience was 
meaningless. At that time Jung's personal exuberance and 
physical size were noticeable, and we last saw him marching 
out, with a certain playful humor, arm-in-arm with the 
gaitered bishop — arm-in-arm, although communication on 
the subject of the symbol had not greatly advanced between 
them. 

Eleven years later Jung gave me half a morning for a 
personal interview. He spoke with a spontaneous frankness 
and an unashamed sense of paradox. He remembered the 
group and the bishop, and asserted that the theologian is 
now passe, owing among other things to his inability to 
understand projection. But, he added, "Always I have a 
feeling of compassion for the clergyman. He has a devil of 
a problem." He had, of course, participated in this, for he 

2 A seminar talk given on April 5, 1939, to the Guild of Pastoral 
Psychology, published 1954 as Guild Lecture No. 80, and included 
in CW 18. Richard Parsons, Bishop of Southwark, was a participant. 



*59 



1939-1958 

spoke with feeling for his father "with all his intelligence, 
who had to be helpless over all this — so restricted and out 
of touch with nature and the dreams." Indeed, the intensely 
personal and historical basis of Jung's scientific motivation 
revealed itself as he showed me photographs of his grand- 
father the doctor and of his father the pastor — high-fore- 
headed and sensitive in facial expression. "I had the whole 
problem of the father to solve," he said, "I am always un- 
popular — with the theologians and with the doctors. I am 
always mettant mes pieds sur le plat. The medical chaps 
have no intelligence," he added. "They work too much 
from the outside, whereas everybody's psychology is making 
careful plans to get them into a state in which they have 
to face themselves, and the shadow. It's their chance to 
realize the self. If you can get them out of their hole by 
giving them a kick in the pants you've cheated them of their 
birthright." The same feet were put on the priest's plate. 
For he emphasized how Christianity forces people to meet 
the shadow, and he outlined an argument he had worked at 
to show that St. Thomas Aquinas really believed that the 
world was created by the Diabolus. Jung's own sense of the 
difficulty made him tell a rabbinical story of how God 
wanted to make a world with his mercy and his justice. 
The trouble was that if he used his mercy there would be 
too many sins, and if he used his justice you couldn't live. 
So he mixed both of them up and said: "Oh, how I wish 
there would be a world." Jung roared with laughter, and 
went on to mention the symbolism attached to Christ, in- 
dicating opposites in his nature, as, for instance, the Levia- 
than, the Lion, the Serpent, the Black Raven, and his cruci- 
fixion between two thieves. Then the symbolism became 
astrological. Jung stated that, at the birth of Christ, Saturn 
the maleficent god and Jupiter the beneficent god were so 
near to each other that they were almost one star, that is, the 
star of Bethlehem, when the new self, Christ, good and evil, 
was born. Jung then associated to this by telling two stories 

1 60 



Four "Contacts with Jung" 

about people. A man told Jung about a Quaker who seemed 
a perfectly good man. So where was his shadow? Jung 
asked about his wife. Apparently she was perfect, too. His 
children? "Oh," said the inquirer, "one of them is a thief." 
In Jung's words, "He went out wagging his tail." The 
second story concerned a theologian without a shadow, but 
it turned out that his son was "getting into the way of forg- 
ing checks." Jung's comment was, "The son assumes the 
father's shadow. His father was stealing, you see, from God 
his sins. The son was punished for the father's sins not 
rendered to God." 



Renee Brand (San Francisco) 



The year was 1955, in the fall. We were stepping from the 
living-room where tea had been served into the garden of 
228 Seestrasse in Kiisnacht. Ten students from the Institute 
had been delegated to celebrate with Jung the planting of a 
Ginkgo biloba tree given to him for his eightieth birthday. 
We stood in a semicircle by the place chosen for the tree 
while two gardeners started digging the hole. Between them 
they fell into an alternating rhythm, accentuated by the 
spades breaking up the earth and the thud of throwing it 
out. Jung was giving directions about the width and breadth 
of the hole, concerned that the roots should get enough 
space. As I looked at him in the outdoor light of the after- 
noon, he suddenly seemed less sturdy, his frame less power- 
ful — different than in his study at my recent visit, or even 
a few minutes ago at tea. He looked all of his eighty years 
and very frail, with the frailty of old age. With the shock 
of this realization, a sinister crescendo seemed to get into 
the rhythm of spades going in and earth thumping down. 
Irrationally, it seemed that this hole was not for planting a 

161 



1939-1958 



tree, that these were not gardeners, they were grave-diggers. 
The feeling about death was so strong that the scene be- 
came unbearable, and I stood in utter helplessness, wishing 
and praying for it all to stop. Suddenly I heard Jung saying: 
"This has nothing to do with death. They are planting new 
life." He was looking straight in front of him, addressing 
no one. Having my unspoken thought picked out of my 
head and answered was so startling that the irrational panic 
turned into a numinous experience. 

Elizabeth Osterman (San Francisco) 

The heavy wooden door on which I had just knocked was 
set in a thick stone wall which seemed solidly part of the 
earth. This, was the entryway to the medieval-looking, se- 
cluded country place which Jung had built by hand through 
the years at Bollingen on the shore of Lake Zurich. On my 
way to the Aegean Islands on this first trip away from the 
western United States, I had stopped in Switzerland for 
this visit. Leaving the highway some distance from the 
town of Rapperswil, I had traversed a footpath which 
skirted a dense wood at the rear of a complex of walls and 
stone towers. A few feet away to my left the lake water 
lapped among the reeds. The July sun warmed the rain- 
dampened earth, and a soft haze covered the distant moun- 
tains. 

As I stood waiting before the door I was somewhat nerv- 
ous, but was reassured by sounds of wood-chopping coming 
from behind the wall. . . . Now the door opened, and I was 
invited into the inner garden by his household companion. 
There, beyond a second doorway, was the strong-bodied, 
white-haired, eighty-three-year-old man in his green work- 
man's apron, seated before the chopping block. Behind him 
was a large square stone carved by him in earlier years 
when he was attempting to give form to his emerging 
realizations. I felt as though I had stepped out of time and 



162 



Four "Contacts with Jung" 

had entered into an inner world where everything was 
relevant, unhurried, natural. 

At the water's edge we settled into comfortable chairs, 
and through that afternoon the conversation wandered back 
into the prehistory of the earth, into the depths of the 
psyche, into the wonders of nature around us. Once I 
looked at my watch and he said, "Never mind a watch; I'll 
tell you." He returned frequently to the theme of what 
man is doing to himself by living in a fast and meaningless 
way, how he has become estranged from himself. With im- 
mediacy and great simplicity he said: "We must give time 
to nature so that she may be a mother to us. I have found 
the way to live here as part of nature, to live in my own 
time. People in the modern world are always living so that 
something better is to happen tomorrow, always in the 
future, so they don't think to live their lives. They are up 
in the head. When a man begins to know himself, to dis- 
cover the roots of his past in himself, it is a new way of 
life." 

The force that emanated from this man sitting beside 
me was amazing. He seemed at once powerful and simple; 
real, the way the sky and rocks and trees and water around 
him were real. He seemed to be all there in his own nature, 
but what made it so exciting was his awareness of it. 

A knock on the door broke into the conversation; the 
taxi man had arrived. Jung remarked, "That says it." It was 
time to leave. 



163 



On Creative Achievement 



ON CREATIVE ACHIEVEMENT 



»♦*»* M ll l l tll l t l MHt ll 



Emil A. Fischer undertook to interview twenty Swiss men and 
women prominent in cultural life, and he published the result- 
ing articles in a small book entitled Schopferische Leistung 
(Thalwil, 1946)— "Creative Achievement." Fischer began his 
conversation by asking Jung about "the strange aphorism that 
is carved into stone above the entrance door of the house: 
Vocatus atque non vocatus deus aderit." This was an opening 
that interviewers often hit upon. Jung had the inscription 
carved over the door when he built the house, in 1 909. It came 
from an old copy of Erasmus that he had bought while a uni- 
versity student. 1 



Is there any special relationship between this saying and 
your Weltanschauung or your life's work? 

"Called or uncalled, God is present!" It is a Delphic or- 
acle. The translation is by Erasmus. You ask whether the or- 
acle is my motto. In a way, you see, it contains the entire 
reality of the psyche. "Oh God!" is what we say, irrespec- 
tive of whether we say it by way of a curse or by way of 
love. 

Isn't the psyche of the artist and the intellectual particularly 
complex and worthy of closer consideration? 

So far, too much one-sided attention has been focused on 
the morbid aspect of the matter. I wonder why there is so 
much nonsensical theorizing about the pathology of out- 
standing people. Most psychopaths are not geniuses; and on 
the other hand there are many geniuses who do not show 
the slightest traces of pathology. 

What is much more significant in this context is the 

1 See The Freud/]ung Letters, p. xviii, n. 18. 

164 



! i 



theory of the shadow: the brighter the light, the darker the 
shadow! 

It is important to see also the negative sides of great men. 
On Palm Sunday, Christ temporarily played the role of a 
political Messiah. His negative side and his power are sym- 
bolically displayed in the temptation by the Devil. 

Biographies should show people in their undershirts. 
Goethe had his weaknesses, and Calvin was often cruel. 
Considerations of this kind reveal the true greatness of a 
man. This way of looking at things is better than false hero 
worship ! 

Where do you get the incentive for your creative wor\, 
Professor? 

One is always in the dark about one's own personality. 
One needs others to get to know oneself. 

Having said this— I actually started out by simply doing 
routine scientific work. I always followed the motto that it 
is worth doing something only if you do it right! 

The incentives for my creative work are rooted in my 
temperament. Diligence and a strong desire for knowledge 
accompanied me throughout life. I do not derive any satis- 
faction from knowing things superficially: I want to know 
them thoroughly. When I came to the conclusion that I had 
only hazy notions of the primitives, and that it was not 
possible to acquire full knowledge about them through 
books, I started traveling in Africa, New Mexico, and India. 
For the same reason I also started learning Swahili. 

What were the circumstances that induced you to wor\ in 
the field of psychological research? 

Even as a small boy I noticed that people always did the 
contrary of what was said of them. I found some of the 
people who were praised quite unbearable, whereas I 
thought others who were criticized quite pleasant. 

I noticed the inconsistencies in the behavior of adults 
quite early on, because I spent my formative years in Basel, 

165 



1946 

in a rather odd environment, which was frequented by peo- 
ple with a complicated psychic structure. 

When I was barely four years old, someone said to me in 
an exaggeratedly childish tone: "Where do you think you are 
going with your rocking horse?" I reacted quite the enfant 
terrible: "Mama, why does this man say such nonsense?" 
Even as a child I clearly felt that people did not say what 
was really in their minds. 

Isn't it possible for people to come to psychology in exactly 
the opposite way? Don't some people feel attracted to psy- 
chology because they want to find an explanation for the 
chaos within themselves? 

Certainly! If you take a critical look at people, you will 
find that some of them are involved in psychology only in 
order to demonstrate that "the other person" is even more 
neurotic. However, in the kingdom of the blind the one- 
eyed man is king. 

Isn't nature particularly important for you to sustain and 
enhance your personal productivity? 

Nature can help you only if you manage to get time for 
yourself. You need to be able to relax in the garden, com- 
pletely at peace, or to walk. From time to time I need to 
stop, to just stand there. If someone were to ask me: What 
are you thinking of just now? — I wouldn't know. I think 
unconsciously. 

How important is the time factor in your scientific activity? 
Isn't it a great strain for you to wor\ both as an analyst 
and as a research scientist? 

My time has always been divided. Either I dealt with 
patients, or I did research work. For a time, I used to see 
patients only in the afternoons. The mornings were devoted 
to scientific work. 

In earlier years I worked a lot at night, especially during 
the first World War. Until the middle of my life I worked 



166 



On Creative Achievement 

chiefly in the morning, and after I was 36, chiefly in the 
afternoon. In the last ten years I've turned again to working 
in the morning. 

How do you react to disturbances? Some occultist authors 
recommend that their adepts go into retreat to enhance their 
energies. Do you thin\ that creative energy grows as a result 
of isolation? 

The energy is there, but I must have the possibility of 
"casting my net." Once I have all the material, nothing and 
nobody must get near. I am not as sensitive to noise as 
Carlyle, who installed triple glass windows and saw to it 
that all the fowl and dogs near his property were bought 
up. But when I am in the active creative process, any dis- 
turbance is downright physically painful. I have a little 
house at Bollingen, to which I retreat and where I can 
work undisturbed when my notes and preparatory studies 
have reached the stage where I can start writing. 

Do some Yoga systems offer the possibility of developing 
one's creative energies? 

Yoga can liberate certain psychic contents and natural 
dispositions but it cannot produce them. You can't make 
something out of nothing, not even with will-power. And 
what is will-power? To have will-power means that you 
have a lot of drive. Creativeness is drive! A creative calling 
is like a daimonion, which, in some instances, can ruin a 
person's entire life. 

[Translated by Ruth Horine] 



167 



A VISIT FROM A 
YOUNG QUAKER 

Ht l lMIHIM I I M i l 

George H. Hogle, from Utah, went to see Jung at his Bollingen 
retreat during the summer of 1947. He wrote up his recollection 
of the meeting for a memorial booklet prepared by the Analyti- 
cal Psychology Club of San Francisco in 1961, and he later 
added more details of the conversation in a letter. 

Following Jung's advice, Hogle became an analysand of the 
psychotherapist Frances G. Wickes, in New York. Previously, 
he had worked in Wall Street, and subsequently he earned an 
M.D. degree at Columbia-Presbyterian and underwent psychi- 
atric and analytical training in London. He is now clinical 
assistant professor of psychiatry at Stanford University, in Palo 
Alto, California, and a Jungian analyst. 



While training for foreign relief work with the American 
Friends Service Committee in Philadelphia during 1946, I 
met several Quakers who were also interested in Jungian 
psychology. I had recently discovered medicine and now 
was searching for some connection between psychology and 
religion. The experience of trying to help heal the wounds 
of war in Germany a year later sharpened my search. 
During the summer of 1947, while on holiday in Zurich, I 
telephoned Dr. Jung's office on an impulse — here was the 
man who could give me the answers, I thought, not realiz- 
ing it might take me several years. His secretary informed 
me that he did not see people while on holiday at a hideout 
(Bollingen) at the other end of the lake, but since she was 
in touch with him she would ask him anyway. To my de- 
light and her surprise, the next day I was given an appoint- 
ment. 



168 



A Visit from a Young Quaker 

After I had walked through the woods to what looked 
like a little fairy-tale castle by the side of the lake, the great 
wooden door was opened to my knock by the huge old 
hired man, smoking a pipe and with an ax in his hand. In 
lame German I asked for Herr Doctor, and in idiomatic 
English he introduced himself — not the dignified professor 
I had expected. As we stood on the beautiful shore, he put 
me somewhat at ease, chatting about building his hideaway. 
My hesitance and inhibitions were replaced soon after by 
the conviction that here was a very fallible, rigid old man, 
as we got into an enormously heated argument about the 
international situation. 

I had told him that I was working with the Quakers in 
Germany to rebuild the bridges of friendship between ene- 
mies and that the next big job, I felt, was already looming 
on the horizon; namely, to reach out across the Iron Curtain 
and make some kind of friendship with the Russians. I felt 
that the Friends' approach would lessen tensions and be an 
example of mutual brotherhood. 

He snickered, or something like that, and said he would 
not advise it ; it would be quite impossible to work with the 
Russians or reach them, you could not trust them, they had 
broken their agreements many times. I replied, so had we, 
which was, of course, not mentioned in the Western press, 
and that somehow we needed to get beyond that. But he 
simply was adamant. Finally, he patted me on the shoulder 
and, with a big smile, said, "Well, we don't have to agree 
about everything." 

Having helped me realize he was quite human and that it 
was safe to show some feeling, he escorted me up to an 
elegant Swiss tea, which we shared with Emma Jung. They 
inquired at length about the situation in Germany, no doubt 
the reason he was willing to see a non-German coming 
recently out of that country. I knew nothing of the contro- 
versy regarding his questionable sympathies for the Ger- 



169 



1 



1947 

mans, but certainly at that time I got no impression that he 
had ever been warm in any way toward Nazism, rather 
that he only tried to understand what it all meant at a 
deeper level. 

After tea, we were alone for about an hour, during which 
he dealt graciously and helpfully with my impossible in- 
quiry as to what I should do with my life, knowing nothing 
about me and yet no doubt knowing much just by observ- 
ing. Instead of answering my questions he gave me other 
better questions to ask myself over the succeeding months. 
I told him something of my belief that God is good and 
love, at which he inquired, "But do you think that God may 
also include hate and evil?" This rather shook me, but 1 
explained his question to myself that he must be a Pantheist 
and that God includes all just as the individual self both the 
divine center and the shadow, that Satan must be another 
aspect of God. He encouraged me to go into psychology 
and gave me names of analysts, especially recommending 
Frances Wickes. 



DOCTORS ON HOLIDAY 
ON THE RIGI 



M *» M *< M ** H M M I II H * 



The founding of the C. G, Jung Institute in April 1948 
brought many of Jung's friends and pupils to Zurich. (For 
Jung's address on the occasion, see CW 18, pars. ii29rf.) In 
June, for the first time since before the War, Esther Harding 
(see above, p. 25) and her friend and colleague Eleanor 
Bertine, M.D V traveled from New York. Dr. Bertine (1887- 
1968), American by origin and training, shared with Dr. 
Harding the leadership of the Jungian movement in the eastern 
United States. After returning from abroad, her Report from 
Zurich was brought out as a pamphlet by the Analytical 
Psychology Club of New York, 1948. It dealt chiefly with the 
organization of the Institute, but a more personal excerpt 
under the above title was included in Memories and Perspec- 
tives Marking the Centennial of C. G. Jung's Birth (published 
privately by the Club, 1975), and this version is printed here. 
Dr. Harding's journal entries for her visit at the same time are 
given afterward. 



170 



We arrived in Switzerland at the very height of rose-time. 
I think I never saw so many roses in my life, garden roses 
and climbing roses, wild roses and tame. One thing that 
strikes an American abroad, as a lot of you know, is that 
literally every inch of land is used, either fertilized for 
grazing or agriculture, or allocated to timber production, 
or else made into the ubiquitous gardens by which every 
peasant's cottage, as well as every mansion, is surrounded. 
All the villages looked like blooming rose-gardens. We well 
remembered, on this return, the majesty of the mountains, 
but we had almost forgotten the quaint loveliness of every 



171 



1948 

little hamlet. For us, of course, the country round about 
Kiisnacht was filled with memories of steps and stages on 
the inner way which had been accomplished there. It was 
under a particular tree that heavy thoughts had clustered 
like ripe fruit, yon forest had been a place of darkness of 
spirit, but clarification had come while swinging down the 
steep hill above the village just as twilight was falling. All 
the sounds, too, brought repercussions from the past, the 
thrice-repeated ding-dong, ding-dong, ding-dong announc- 
ing train time at the station, the splash of the little lake boats 
pulling up to a stop just under our window, the chimes of 
half a dozen churches ringing the quarter hour from near 
at hand and from across the lake. All were so utterly fa- 
miliar, so unchanged by all the violence of the intervening 
years. 

But the goal for which we had made the pilgrimage was, 
of course, to see Dr. Jung. So we were delighted to get a 
call bright and early the morning after our arrival giving us 
an appointment for the following morning. He had ex- 
plained previously that he could no longer carry the burden 
of people's personal problems, but that he would be glad to 
talk with us about anything else we wished. We found him 
looking older, of course, for the twelve years since we had 
been there; his hair was snow white, but he appeared well 
and more full of ideas and of mental vitality than ever. He 
had so much to give that he seemed actually to need to give 
it. Physically, we were told, he readily gets over-tired and 
then he goes rapidly downhill. His illness has left him with 
only a small reserve, and he has to live within rather rigid 
limits. But within those limits, he is magnificent. Talking 
did not seem to tire him, and he poured out treasures 
lavishly, from what seemed to be an inexhaustible fund of 
wisdom. He said that he had thought old age would be a 
rather dull time of decrease and inaction, but actually 
it was most exciting. "You just sit quietly in one place 
and absolutely everything comes right to your door- 



172 



Doctors on Holiday on the Rigi 

step!" The hard digging and delving that he has done 
all his life in pioneering this new way into the psyche 
seems now to be bearing fruit in the form of a great 
wealth of spontaneous ideas. Indeed all during his illness, he 
told us, ideas were flooding up, even in his delirium, which 
he is still trying to evaluate and record. His literary output 
is enormous. At present he is engaged in redoing Psychology 
of the Unconscious, writing another book on alchemy and 
one on the Self. 1 And of course he gives a lot of time to the 
Institute and to the working out of all the myriad details 
connected with getting it well started. And finally, he is 
continually visited by scholars interested in psychology and 
all the numerous fields which touch upon it, men and 
women who bring their special points of view to him and 
seek something of his integrating wisdom. So, in spite of 
physical limitations, he is an immensely hard worker. He 
said that, a while ago when he had gone off to the moun- 
tains for a much-needed rest and vacation, he had made up 
his mind that he had done his bit and had about come to 
the end of his assignment. So he wasn't going to have any 
more ideas, please. But that very night the conception of 
the central theme of the book on the Self forced itself upon 
him, and there was nothing for it but to set to work on 
another big undertaking. 

Dr. Jung was, as he put it, "not quite pessimistic" about 
the inevitability of the destruction of our civilization. He 
found some indications — quite slight clues, to be sure — in 
the dreams of all sorts of people and in the particular way 
that certain things have happened, which suggest that this 
moment, with its upheaval and disorder, may be truly the 
transition to a new order, as we have all been hoping for so 

1 Jung greatly revised Wandlungen und Symbole der Libido 
(1912; tr. 1916, Psychology of the Unconscious) under the new title 
Symbole dei- Wandlung (1952; tr. 1956, Symbols of Transformation, 
CW 5). "Another book on alchemy" may have been Mysterium 
Coniunctionis (1955; CW 14), and the one on the Self was Aion 
(i9 5 i;CW 9 i). 



173 



1948 

long. He said that the uprush of brutality, which he had 
observed so generally in dreams of Germans before the War, 
was giving way to constructive symbols of a new phase. One 
rather interesting astrological fact, he noted, is that the 
line of the ecliptic, at present traversing the second fish of 
the sign of Pisces, the fish of the Anti-Christ, does not pass 
through its head but below. This would mean that, accord- 
ing to the stars, the sinister forces do not reach their maxi- 
mum, do not quite "come to a head." Of course he made no 
claim to be a prophet, but merely an observer of whatever 
indications there might be. 

At the end of the morning, Dr. Jung proposed that we 
join him for a long week-end trip, Thursday to Monday, on 
the Rigi. We had heard that he was planning a holiday and 
would be out of town for about a week, which we naturally 
took as our bad luck, never dreaming of such a windfall as 
this. He knew of a charming little inn recently built on a 
saddle just below the summit of the mountain, and said he 
would ask Miss Schmid to engage the rooms for us all. Mrs. 
Jung had hoped to go but couldn't manage it just then. Miss 
Wolff would try to get up by Saturday night. 

So Thursday morning we met Dr. Jung at the railroad 
station. He was carrying a fat and heavy briefcase which 
held the manuscript of the book he had brought along to 
work on. That did not look much like a holiday to us, but 
fortunately it was never opened all the time we were there. 
The mountain and talk claimed every minute. Each morn- 
ing, right after breakfast, we all fared forth for a tramp. 
The Rigi is a fairly domesticated mountain, at least a cog- 
wheel railroad runs up to the top from each side, and there 
are many trails crisscrossing the slopes, where they are not 
too steep. Dr. Jung, needlessly apologetic, set the pace slow 
enough for us to keep up without having had a chance to 
get into training beforehand. For actually he was able to do 
as much as we cared to. There were benches placed here 
and there at particularly beautiful spots where we could 



174 



Doctors on Holiday on the Rigi 

sit down and divide our attention about evenly between the 
view and the talk. As you may remember, the Rigi rears 
steeply above Lucerne across from the sharp peaks of Pila- 
tus, with the gem-like chain of lakes of the Vierwaldstatter- 
see strung out at its feet. In the distance, across lower snow 
ranges, tower the giants of the Bernese Oberland. Wherever 
you look, your eye is caught and held by something you 
want to be able always to remember. Dr. Jung pointed to 
the sheer face of a cliff, asking, "Do you see that door?" 
We looked hard and could see nothing but unbroken rock. 
Then he pointed out the line of a ledge and above it the 
faintest bit of roughness. It was the door of a cave in the 
cliff, one of many made by the Swiss army as a means of 
defending the mountains when they momently expected 
invasion. The plan was to abandon the northern plain, 
where Zurich is located, and to retire into the mountains 
and fight there to the last ditch. The Swiss meant it, too, 
and that spirit was probably what saved them. 

After lunch, and there is no problem in getting all you 
want to eat and drink in Switzerland if you can pay for it, 
there was time for a little rest, then we came together again 
for tea and another walk, then dinner and more talk until 
far into the night. And such talk! Dr. Jung was in top form, 
and the conversation ranged over everything conceivable, 
from the sublime to the ridiculous, from samples of his 
inimitable Rabelaisian wit to the meaning of faith. He told 
us about his experiences under threat of invasion during the 
war, about the visit of Churchill to Switzerland, which was 
like a triumphal procession, and the talks he had had with 
— or perhaps I should rather say had heard from — him. Dr. 
Jung spoke of the United States and its overwhelming job 
of world leadership. I said that this had not been sought or 
wanted by our country, and I questioned whether we were 
ready to carry such a responsibility. His answer was that 
the United States must not stay immature now, or it will 
be at the peril of the whole world. "Only you have the 



J75 



1948 



power, you must take the responsibility that goes with it." 
He thought it most necessary that we be firm with Russia 
or Russia will certainly control Europe. Like all the other 
Europeans I talked with, including some who had pre- 
viously been far from pro-American, he was immensely 
appreciative of the Marshall Plan, and hoped that we would 
be firm and definite about laying down conditions for its 
operation. I asked whether that would not bring everybody 
down on us, with the accusation that we were using dollars 
to dominate the world. He agreed that it would, but said 
that such was the inevitable price of power. "You cannot at 
once hold power and avoid criticism, for what you don't do, 
if not for what you do." He thought we would have to 
accept that fact and go ahead, for the European countries 
could not agree among themselves. There was too much 
long and bitter history dividing them. 

In these long hours in the mountains, Dr. Jung reminisced 
about his own past experiences, his trips to Africa and to 
India, the long anxiety during the period of Hitler's domina- 
tion. And then, one morning, sitting in an outdoor terrace 
cafe looking over the deep valley with its emerald green 
lake and on to the snow peaks beyond, he took us to the 
mountains of the mind, as he told us of his latest idea of the 
psyche. This is the basis of his new book on the Self and 
will be the culmination of his life's work, the final great 
step in integration of a career outstandingly devoted to the 
integrative processes, both in knowledge and in life. He 
has found a symbol of the psychic structure which joins 
into an organic unity everything from the mineral world 
through the animal, the unconscious and ordinary con- 
sciousness up to the Anthropos, which is quality-less and 
so, like the old Uroboros, touches the primordial condition 
of Chaos with its forces constituting matter, from which the 
whole cycle springs again. It all was most suggestive and 
exciting, but too much to take in at one telling. Though he 
drew diagrams to elucidate his thought, I admit to a feeling 

176 



Doctors on Holiday on the Rigi 

rather like my reaction many years ago when I first con- 
tacted his work through Psychology of the Unconscious. It 
was: "There speaks the master. I do not understand, but, 
please God, I shall before I die." The elaboration of these 
new ideas will, I think, bring some light to the dim inter- 
region between psyche and body, as well as that between 
psychology and physics. Anyway we felt that the com- 
panion with whom we sat waiting for the drinks to be 
brought on that mountain terrace had himself given us a 
drink from the cup of pure genius. 

Of course the days on the Rigi were the high point of the 
trip. It is impossible to be with Dr. Jung without a constant 
sense that the inner world of the unconscious is a vital fact, 
ever-present in the room. The habitual directness of his 
connection with the actual libido of the moment is more 
like that of the animal than of the usual man of today. One 
feels that he has fully completed the cycle from the ex- 
perience of blind instinct through ego-consciousness and 
back to a broad conscious relation to the powerful but mys- 
terious tides of the unconscious. His talk moves back and 
forth from the obvious facts and events of the outer world 
to the subtle and irrational manifestations of another to 
which he grants an exactly equal validity and weight. That 
this is no mere lip service, no mere intellectual point of view, 
is shown in the freeing effect he produces upon practically 
everybody, not too congealed by the fear that this man may 
somehow be going to crack up his well-tailored persona and 
reveal matters too disturbing to be welcome. But, though 
Dr. Jung's talk is rich in references to experiences which 
are ordinarily explained by a priori interpretations from the 
realms of mysticism or superstition, he is utterly sure-footed 
in keeping to the line that differentiates the facts which you 
experience— the observed data— from what you think about 
them and the names you call them by. He himself is fre- 
quently thinking about them, rescuing them from the scrap- 
heap of mere fantasy and superstition and seeking an ex- 



177 



1948 

planation for them consonant with the findings of modern 
psychology. Certainly he does not hesitate to incur the 
criticism, once seriously levelled against him by a psycholo- 
gist at the New School, to the effect that "Jung is more con- 
cerned with religious phenomena than is compatible with 
scientific respectability!" He even strayed so far into "scien- 
tific disrespectability" as to tell us about a magician whom 
he knows personally and who has talked freely to him. The 
man is a Swiss peasant who lives up in the hills above 
Bollingen, conscientiously practicing his profession. He 
trusted Dr. Jung, and told him willingly many stories of 
his successes with magic, producing in evidence a drawer 
full of testimonials and letters of appreciation from "grate- 
ful patients." He even brought out his greatest treasure, a 
book of spells for making magic in the name of Baldur, or 
of Venus, or of other thoroughly pagan gods. This little 
volume, believe it or not, he claimed had been presented to 
him by a monk! Apparently these invocations of highly 
questionable powers had not disturbed the peace of mind of 
the good friar in the least. Indeed magic flourishes, very 
much as of yore in out-of-the-way places in Switzerland. 
And not only there, one might add. 

I have been repeatedly asked since our return, How does 
Dr. Jung really feel about the campaign against him as a 
Nazi sympathizer? That question cannot be answered quite 
simply, even if I could be sure of interpreting his reaction 
correctly, for the reply would have to depend upon the 
level of consciousness with which the interrogation was 
concerned. On the surface level it is deeply painful to him 
to have his name associated with the unspeakable horrors 
perpetrated with deliberate intent by the German govern- 
ment. Such vilification as he has received, and even the 
simple lack of understanding it implies, of all he has stood 
for in his entire life and work, cannot fail to hurt a man of 
his sensibility. But on another plane, it just does not touch 
him. While there are undoubtedly some venomous motives 



178 



Doctors on Holiday on the Rigi 

at work, the whole attack can also be regarded as one more 
manifestation of the fact that he stirs the unconscious to 
such an extent that he is inevitably mythologized as god or 
devil. He has had that experience before many times, and 
takes it in his stride as a part of life, a phenomenon to be 
accepted, rather than an offense to be personally resented. 
Indeed, Dr. Jung has a deep realization that, to be com- 
plete, the very godhead must include the devil, and human 
beings must accordingly find an adjustment to that fact and 
not just childishly reiterate that it oughtn't to be. So, with 
respect to the attacks against himself, he pulls up his collar 
and goes about his business, without getting unduly in- 
volved. 

But to get on with my story. Saturday Miss Wolff ar- 
rived with her little dog. Though badly hampered by 
rheumatism, from which she has been a great sufferer, she 
gamely came along Sunday morning when we climbed to 
the pinnacle of the Rigi. Mrs. Jung, who had expected to 
get up that evening, was delayed by the death and funeral 
of a long-standing member of the Zurich Club, whom some 
of you will undoubtedly remember, Herr Dr. Schlegel. 2 
Dr. Jung asked us to stay over until Tuesday in order to see 
her, but we had a dinner engagement with friends who had 
come to Zurich from southern Switzerland for a visit with 
us, so we had to leave before she arrived, greatly to our 
regret. 

2 The lawyer Eugen Schlegel, an old friend of the Jungs, died on 
June 10, 1948. 



179 



FROM ESTHER HARDING'S 
NOTEBOOKS: 1948 



iiuhihi i hi i hm ii m 



Kiisnacht, 8 June 
C. G. came in, the old C. G., smiling, welcoming, with both 
arms outstretched. He looked at us and said to Eleanor, 
"You have not changed." And to me, "But you have 
changed." I said, "There has been a world cataclysm since I 
last saw you." 

He himself is very little changed. Older, yes, face a little 
thinner, with harder lines and planes, throwing the width 
and height- of the head into greater prominence. Hair a 
little thinner, softly wispy around his head. He spoke of it, 
calling it his "feathers." 

"Yes, my head is growing feathers. But the barber won't 
cut it." 

I said, "Is it the same barber whom Zosimos 1 tells of?" 

But he evidently did not hear all I said, for he replied, 
"No, it is not the same one. We have one who lives just 
across the road." 

We spoke of how glad we had been to get his letters from 
time to time, which had kept us in touch. He said it had 
been very strange during the war in Switzerland, that little 
island of peace, how, in spite of the constant threat of in- 
vasion, he had not been really uneasy (putting his hand on 
his abdomen), that he had always had a sense they would 
be left uninterfered with. 

He told of their great anxiety in 1939 over the Hitler- 
Stalin pact, which made it look as if they would be swal- 

1 A symbolic barber appears in the visions of Zosimos, a Greek 
alchemist of the 3rd cent, a.d., which Jung treated in an Eranos 
lecture, 1937. See "The Visions of Zosimos," CW 13, p. 60. 

180 



From Esther Harding's Notebooks 

lowed up without doubt. He said he had had a dream at 
that time : 

He found himself in a castle, all the walls and buildings 
of which were made of trinitrotoluene (dynamite). Hitler 
came in and was treated as divine. Hitler stood on a mound 
as for a review. C. G. was placed on a corresponding mound. 
Then the parade ground began to fill with buffalo or ya\ 
steers, which crowded into the enclosed space from one end. 
The herd was filled with nervous tension and moved about 
restlessly. Then he saw that one cow was alone, apparently 
sic\. Hitler was concerned about this cow and as\ed C. G. 
what he thought of it. C. G. said, "It is obviously very sic\." 
At this point, Cossacks rode in at the bac\ and began to 
drive the herd off. He awoke and felt, "It is all right." 

He emphasized that Hitler was treated as divine. Conse- 
quently, he felt, we had to view him like that, that Hitler 
is not to be taken primarily as a human man, but as an 
instrument of "divine" forces, as Judas, or, still better, as the 
Antichrist must be. That the castle was built of trinitro- 
toluene meant that it would blow up and be destroyed 
because of its own explosive quality. The herds of cattle are 
the instincts, the primitive, pre-human forces let loose in the 
German unconscious. They are not even domestic cattle, but 
buffalo or yaks, very primitive indeed. They are all male, 
as is the Nazi ideology: all the values of relationship, of 
the person or individual, are completely repressed; the fem- 
inine element is sick unto death, and so we get the sick cow. 
Hitler turns to C. G. for advice, but he limits his comment 
to the diagnosis, "The cow is very sick." At this, as though 
the recognition of the ailment released something, the Cos- 
sacks burst in. Even before that, the herd had been disturbed 
and nervous, as indeed the male animal is if separated too 
long or too completely from its complement, the female. 
The Cossacks are, of course, Russians. From that, C. G. said, 
he deduced that Russia — more barbaric than Germany, but 



181 



1948 



also more directly primitive, and therefore of sounder in- 
stinct — would break in and cause the overthrow of Ger- 



many. 



June 



On more than one occasion Dr. Jung talked about para- 
psychological phenomena. He said he felt that the observed 
phenomena could only be explained with the hypothesis 
that time is a psychic phenomenon, i.e., a conditioning of 
our psyches, or of our consciousness. If one can once get 
outside this ego conditioning, time becomes entirely relative, 
and the present moment is as if eternal. This observation, 
however, does not tell us anything about immortality, or life 
after death. It refers only to the quality of our experience. 

He gave as evidence the variable length of experience of a 
measured period of time. There is also the experience of 
long-continued happenings in dreams. And the story 
Zimmer 2 told of the saint who wanted to know the karma 
of Vishnu and was sent to get water, then met a maiden 
and lived a whole lifetime, and, when he returned, found 
the god just finishing his cigarette! — or something of the 
sort. 

C. G. said it was to explain such things that he formu- 
lated his theory of synchronicity, 3 viz., that everything that 
occurs in any one moment is, in some way, an expression 
of that particular, unique moment in time, which never was 
before and will never recur. He explained the falling of the 
yarrow sticks for the / Ching in this way. Then he re- 
counted several happenings that had an aptness of coinci- 
dence which caused the greatest surprise and wonder. For 
instance: the woman whose dreams had held much sexual 
material, which she kept trying to explain symbolically, till 

2 Heinrich Zimmer (1890-1943), German Indologist, close to 
Jung. For the parable, see his Myths and Symbols in Indian Art and 
Civilization (1946), pp. 32-34. 

3 Jung's first extensive treatment of his synchronicity theory was 
an Eranos lecture of 1951. For that, and the lengthy monograph 
"Synchronicity: An Acausal Connecting Principle" (1952), see CW 8. 

182 



From Esther Harding's Notebooks 

C. G. felt he really must enlighten her; and at the next ap- 
pointment two sparrows fluttered to the ground at her feet 
and "performed the act." Or the patient who dreamed of a 
scarab, and one flew at the window. . . . 

Then he spoke of ESP experiences, dreams of events still 
unknown to the dreamer, which subsequently do occur. 
These dreams usually only come when the news is close at 
hand, rather than at the moment of occurrence. . . . 

He related several experiences having to do with psychic 
phenomena connected with death of persons at a distance. 
There sometimes were what he called "spooks" about, crack- 
lings and snappings in furniture. Occasionally, he had warn- 
ing dreams about a person who was about to die, or he felt 
an unseen presence at the time of their departure. He twice 
dreamed of Baynes 4 after his death, each time in connection 
with Churchill, and each time when Churchill was actually 
in Switzerland, though C. G. did not know this at the time. 
For instance, he dreamed that he was sitting at a dinner 
table with Churchill or Roosevelt when a group of English 
officers, among whom was Baynes, in civilian clothes, came 
in. At this time Churchill had landed near Zurich for his 
plane to refuel on his way to Africa. A second dream was 
similar to the first, except that Roosevelt was not there. This 
time, Churchill was spending one night in Geneva on his 
way to Yalta. 

He told us a lot about this visit and his contact with 
Churchill. 5 

He told us that in 1934 he had gone to Bollingen to work 
and had put up his yellow flag to warn Professor Fierz 6 that 
he was not "at home." He was unable to work, however. He 
felt terribly depressed. A heavy cloud seemed to oppress him. 
But he kept his flag up and struggled with the oppression 



* For H. G. Baynes, see above, p. 33, n. 1. 

5 For Jung's meeting with Winston Churchill in Zurich in 1946, 
see Letters, vol. 1, index, under "Churchill." 

6 Professor H. E. Fierz. 

183 



1948 



all day Sunday and into Monday. At last, he pulled down 
the flag, feeling it was no use trying to work any longer. 
Immediately, Professor Fierz came over and told him of the 
Nazi purge, which had taken place on Sunday morning. 

He spoke of exteriorized libido: how, when there was an 
important idea that was not yet quite conscious, the furni- 
ture and woodwork all over the house creaked and snapped, 
and that Mrs. Jung was aware of it as well as he. One time 
there came a sharp snap at the door just as he was falling 
asleep. This was repeated, and it woke him quite up. Then, 
as he began to fall asleep again, he had a vision of a fish, 
and, just as he lost consciousness, his wardrobe gave a great 
crack. He opened his eyes to see a large fish emerging from 
the top corner. 

He told us of his hallucinations of the Ravenna mosaics. 7 
When they went into the piscina, he and Miss Wolff, there 
was a misty blue light, and through it they saw the mosaics. 
They stood and discussed them for about half an hour and 
were amazed to find the Peter symbol, Peter walking on the 
water and being rescued by Christ, combined with the others 
(Moses bringing water from the rock; Jonah and the whale; 
the miraculous draft of fishes). He came back and narrated 
this in the seminar (of 1929?). When Dr. Meier 8 was going 
to Ravenna, a year or two later, C. G. told him he must not 
fail to see the mosaics and to get him pictures of them, for 
he and Miss Wolff had failed to find any in the town. (I 
was present at that seminar.) When Dr. Meier returned, he 
told C. G. that no such mosaics existed. He could not be- 
lieve it. It was only some years that he ran across the story of 
the countess who had vowed to make such a gift of mosaics 
if she were delivered from shipwreck. The mosaics were 
made, but were destroyed by fire while in nearby St. 

7 Published in Memories, Dreams, Reflections (1963), Chapter 9, 
sec. v. 

8 C. A, Meier, then Jung's assistant, later director of the C. G. 
Jung Institute. 

184 



From Esther Harding's Notebooks 

Giovanni's Church. Jung learned that a sketch does exist, 
but he has not seen it. . . . 

Another time, he talked about "haunted houses." In 
Africa once he heard music and the sound of people talking, 
though he could not distinguish the words. The natives told 
him, "Those are the people who talk." This occurred more 
than once to him. And other travellers also have reported 
such experiences. Always at these places there are evidences 
that there has at some past time been a settlement — for ex- 
ample, there are plants there only grown under cultivation. 



185 



A VISIT FROM MORAVIA 



Mn i Hi ii in i M t nm ii 



The Italian novelist Alberto Moravia, whose writings had been 
censored by the Fascists, was working during the postwar 
period as a correspondent for L'Europeo (Milan). In the issue 
of December 5, 1948, he published a brief article on a visit to 
Zurich; the title translates as "The Psychoanalyst Jung Teaches 
How to Tame the Devil," though only the latter half is devoted 
to an interview with Jung, extracted here. The first part is 
about Swiss banking and Italo Svevo, his fellow novelist. In 
1952, incidentally, the Roman Catholic Church put all of 
Moravia's books on the Index. 



I am on my way to visit C. G. Jung in one of Zurich's sub- 
urbs. Here are the luxurious villas of the banking and 
commercial bourgeoisie, surrounded by vast gardens. They 
have their offices in modern, austere, and bare buildings in 
the center of town. Looking for Jung's villa along the main 
thoroughfare, in pouring rain, I am reminded of the Amer- 
ican novelist Scott Fitzgerald, writer of another post-war 
generation. In one of his beautiful novels 1 he describes to 

1 Tender Is the Night {1934), in which — whether or not Moravia 
had it in mind — Fitzgerald mentions Jung several times, most no- 
tably in a passage in which the American psychiatrist Diver, prac- 
ticing in Zurich, reflects on the personalities he might encounter 
at a psychiatric congress: "Articulate among them, would be the 
great Jung, bland, super-vigorous, on his rounds between the forests 
of anthropology and the neuroses of school-boys" (Book Two, sec. 
XVI, in the original version). When his wife Zelda had a psychotic 
episode in late 1930, she was a patient of Dr. Oscar Forel at the 
sanitarium of Prangins, on Lake Geneva. A consultation was neces- 
sary, and Eugen Bleuler, of the Burghblzli in Zurich, "had been 
chosen after careful consideration. Dr. Jung was Fitzgerald's alter- 
native choice, but Jung handled cases of neurosis primarily" (Nancy 
Milford, Zelda: A Biography, 1970, p. 179). 

186 



A Visit from Moravia 



perfection the psychoanalytic milieu of Zurich: An Ameri- 
can millionaire, much disturbed by his daughter's state of 
mind, brings her to Zurich to one of the most famous and 
expensive psychiatric clinics. There it is simply discovered 
that the daughter, at the age of fifteen, had been seduced by 
just that loving father. She falls in love with her physician, 
who cures her, marries him, and goes to live with him on 
the Riviera. . . . But here, at last, is No. 228 Seestrasse, the 
street of the lake. The rain is pelting down on the yellow 
leaves of the tree-lined avenue, at the end of which one can 
see the entrance to a villa. I ring the bell and Jung's secretary 
opens the door. In a few minutes Jung himself ushers me 
through the waiting room into his study. 

Jung is an elderly man (he is 74), of stocky build, with a 
strong face reddened by the continuous flames of a cheerful 
fireplace. He has a white mustache, penetrating eyes, and 
white, dishevelled hair. A man of middle-class appearance, 
dressed in rough woolen sporty clothes, breathing a bit 
laboriously, stout, and with a pipe in hand. He asks me to 
sit down in an armchair, in front of a bright lamp which 
nearly blinds me. He, instead, possibly because it is the 
habit of a psychoanalyst, sits down facing me, his face in 
shadow as if he wants to study me without being himself 
scrutinized. Thus, with my face illuminated and his in 
darkness, we begin our conversation. 

We talk in French, which Jung speaks fluently despite a 
somewhat harsh German accent. The first questions and 
answers are awkward. Then, no doubt because his examina- 
tion of my face has given him a favorable impression, Jung 
warms up and begins to talk with greater ease. 

Naturally the discussion revolves around his theories and 
books, all of which I know only superficially, and in par- 
ticular the theory expounded in his last book, Symbolic des 
Geistes. 2 Digressing at times, Jung explains to me some of 

2 Published 1948, containing the final German version of "A 
Psychological Approach to the Dogma of the Trinity," CW 11. 

187 



1948 



the ideas of this latest work and its connection with the 
theory which gave him fame. 

In the new book, the most important part apparently con- 
centrates on an "attempt at a psychological explanation of 
the dogma of the Trinity." This book has caused much talk 
in Switzerland, precisely because of his interpretation of the 
Christian Trinity. In short, according to Jung, the Christian 
dogma represents a symbol for the collective psyche; the 
Father symbolizes a primitive phase; the Son an inter- 
mediate and reflective phase; and the Spirit a third phase in 
which one returns to the original phase, though enriching it 
through the intermediate reflections. Jung would like to add 
to that Trinity a fourth figure so as to transform the whole 
into, so to speak, a Quaternity. This fourth figure is the 
direct antithesis to the clear and conscious function of the 
first three: it would possess an obscure, subconscious func- 
tion, and would represent— according to Jung — the devil. 

In order to make this idea of a Quaternity comprehen- 
sible, Jung connects it with his well known theory of the 
psychology of the unconscious. He roughly reasons as 
follows: In ancient times the devil, i.e., the unconscious, 
existed in direct relationship to the spirit, or the conscious. 
This relationship was highly beneficial; the conscious nour- 
ished with its light the shadows of the unconscious; with its 
positivity the negativity of the unconscious; with its ra- 
tionality the instinctuality of the unconscious. The ancient 
religions were aware of the relationships between conscious 
and unconscious; and what is more, they encouraged them. 
Yahweh, for instance, was not only God but also Devil. 
However, beginning with Christianity and particularly the 
Reformation, the unconscious, that is to say the devil, has 
become increasingly thwarted, suppressed, forgotten, oblit- 
erated. With Luciferian pride the Nordic Protestant be- 
lieves he can do without the devil. And so, acquiring 
strength in direct proportion to that excess of repression, the 
unconscious suddenly explodes catastrophically in various 

188 



A Visit from Moravia 

diabolic and destructive ways. Jung explains that thus one 
can understand the clearly demonic and suicidal tendency 
of European civilization on the threshold of the first World 
War. At that time the devil, i.e., the unconscious, for too 
long repressed and even forgotten, took his revenge by 
driving men to regard with sensual joy destruction and 
death. At this point Jung graphically conjures up the picture 
of trains full of exuberant soldiers, the locomotives bedecked 
with flowers, leaving Berlin for the front in 191 4, and he 
explains this joy at the imminent massacre with the joy of a 
finally achieved union with blood and death, i.e., the un- 
conscious. Jung proposes the same explanation for the 
monstrous and automatic cruelty of the Nazis during the 
second World War. He says that this time once again the 
absence of a healthy relationship with the devil gave origin 
to an explosion of unprecedented and destructive fury. He 
concludes that it is necessary to restore as quickly as pos- 
sible these relationships: and if necessary, to create precisely 
that Quaternity. 

On this strange prediction, much in tune with the 
Faustian atmosphere, I leave Jung. Outside it continues to 
rain. Through the rain I make my way back to Zurich. 

[ Translated by Beata Sauerlander] 



189 



FROM CHARLES BAUDOUIN'S 
JOURNAL: 1949 



I tlMHIMIMMI II II II I I 



In January 1935, Jung had led in organizing the Swiss Society 
for Practical Psychology, which was the Swiss branch of the 
International General Medical Society for Psychotherapy. The 
Society brought together medical psychotherapists and lay 
psychologists of various schools, and it continued its activity 
after the International Society was dissolved. 



, Sarconnex d'Arve, July 4, 1949 1 

On Saturday I went to Hurden for the meeting of the Jung 
Society. This time I crossed a summer Switzerland in beau- 
tiful weather. The birch trees, trembling in the breeze, 
glittered with a rain of light; the foliage, after days of dry- 
ness, was touched here and there with gold as if on the verge 
of autumn. The lakes succeeded one another with felicitous 
diversity : the one of Geneva with blues and marine violets, 
that of Neuchatel an emerald green, and the gray shades of 
the lake of Zurich were shot with lead. I made the acquaint- 
ance of the small town of Rapperswil and found it charm- 
ing. ... 

Hurden is reached by a causeway that bestrides the lake 
for a kilometer. There on a peninsula — that could be called 
an island — one finds oneself in lake country, bounded on all 
sides by the profiles of peaks of unequal height; one is 
surrounded by red-plumed reeds and the lightning flights 
of water birds. 

Here in a room of the Adler Hotel open to the gardens, 
Jung gave his lecture on mandalas. 2 He arrived, his step a 

1 From L'Oeuvre de Jung ( 1963) ; see above, p. 76. 

2 Apparently an early version of "Concerning Mandala Sym- 



190 



From Charles Baudouin's Journal 

little slow, leaning on the gold-headed cane that his close 
friends say he has been using lately, and wearing a straw 
boater (boaters which have been so unfashionable are com- 
ing back this year), with his rather long white hair falling 
down on his neck behind. Yet his bearing was vigorous 
enough, with his good humor and his ready bursts of laugh- 
ter. This time he spoke sitting, which is certainly permissible 
at seventy-four, rising from time to time to point with his 
stick to the designs pinned on the wall; it was hot, and he 
had been so bold as to take off his vest. 

We dined on the terrace at the edge of the water. . . . 
During the lecture I was struck by Jung's profile, which 
when he removed his glasses to bend over his notes appeared 
to me to be incised with a rare energy, a mordancy and 
keenness seemingly belying the sanguine good nature and 
mischievousness of the person seen face to face. 

[Translated by Jane A. Pratt] 



bolism," CW 9 i, which originally appeared in Gestaltungen des 
Unbewussten (1950). 



191 



ON THE ATTACK IN THE 

"SATURDAY REVIEW 

OF LITERATURE" 



IIIHHMMmiMIHM I 



In 1948 the Bollingen Foundation, which had been formed 
three years earlier, donated funds at the request of the Library 
of Congress to establish an annual prize in poetry. The Library 
named it the Bollingen Prize in Poetry and designated the 
Fellows in American Letters of the Library as its jury of award. 
In February 1949 the Library announced that the first annual 
award had been made, on the recommendation of the Fellows, 
to Ezra Pound. Pound at that time was under indictment for 
treason, being charged with propagandistic activities in sup- 
port of the enemy during the War; and, having been judged 
insane by a medical board, he had been confined in a govern- 
ment mental hospital. At first, the reactions to the award were 
relatively mild, but in June, a poet and critic, Robert Hillyer, 
published two articles in the Saturday Review of Literature 
that arbitrarily dragged Jung into the controversy, through the 
Foundation's interest in his work, and presented him as a 
Nazi and anti-Semite and part of a conspiracy to prepare for "a 
new authoritarianism." The affair has been well documented 
in a booklet, The Case Against "The Saturday Review of 
Literature," published by the magazine Poetry (Chicago), in 
October 1949. 

Carol Baumann, an American pupil of Jung's residing in 
Switzerland, felt that it was "high time that Jung's own voice 
be heard, and I therefore asked for an interview." It was 
published in the Bulletin of the Analytical Psychology Club of 
New Yor\ (a mimeographed private publication), Decem- 
ber 1949. 



{Dr. Jung received me in his garden at Kusnacht, and we sat 
at a round stone table in the shade of a circle of great trees. 



192 



On the Attach in the "Saturday Review" 

I had already sent Dr. Jung a list of the quotations which 
had been cited against him, and he glanced through these 
again.) 

When people have jumped to false conclusions they often 
prefer to cling to their prejudices. There is little use in an- 
swering people who wish to misunderstand, for they are 
not interested in ascertaining the objective truth. 

Yes, but many readers are mystified by the general uproar. 
Will you not answer a few questions about the most im- 
portant accusations against you, to ma\e your viewpoint 
clear to those who are really interested in learning the truth? 
It must be clear to anyone who has read any of my books 
that I never have been a Nazi sympathizer and I never have 
been anti-Semitic, and no amount of misquotation, mis- 
translation, or rearrangement of what I have written can 
alter the record of my true point of view. Nearly every one 
of these passages has been tampered with, either by malice 
or by ignorance. Furthermore, my friendly relations with a 
large group of Jewish colleagues and patients over a period 
of many years in itself disproves the charge of anti-Semitism. 
Let us take the most important misquotation (SRL, June 
11) : "The Jew is a relative nomad, never has had and never 
will have his own culture. . . . The Aryan unconscious is a 
higher unconscious than the Jewish." It is significant that 
when the full context is read, these phrases acquire exactly 
the opposite meaning from that attributed to them by the 
"researchers." These mistranslated phrases have been taken 
from a paper entitled "On the Present Situation of Psycho- 
therapy," which appeared in the Zentralblatt fur Psycho- 
therapie (Vol. 7, Nos. r and 2) .* An extensive presentation 
of the main points in this paper has been printed in a thirty- 
two page article by Dr. Ernest Harms : "Carl Gustav Jung- 
Defender of Freud and the Jews" {Psychiatric Quarterly, 
April, 1946) , 2 In order to evaluate the meaning of these 

1 "The State of Psychotherapy Today," CW 10. 

2 See above, p. 59, n. 1. 



193 



1949 

questionable phrases, I will give you the whole paragraph in 
which they appear: 

"In consequence of their more than twice as ancient cul- 
ture, they (the Jews) are vastly more conscious of human 
weaknesses and inferiorities and therefore much less vul- 
nerable in this respect than we are ourselves. They also owe 
to the experience of ancient culture the ability to live con- 
sciously in benevolent, friendly and tolerant neighborhood 
with their own defects, while we are still too young to have 
no illusions about ourselves. . . . The Jew, as a member of a 
race whose culture is about 3,000 years old, like the edu- 
cated Chinese, is psychologically conscious in wider areas 
than we are. . . . The Jew, as relatively a nomad, never has 
produced, and presumably never will produce a culture of 
his own, 'since all his instincts and gifts require a more or 
less civilized host-people for their development. Therefore, 
the Jewish race as a whole has, according to my experience, 
an unconscious which can only conditionally be compared to 
the Aryan. Aside from certain creative individuals, the aver- 
age Jew is already much too conscious and differentiated to 
be pregnant with the tensions of the unborn future. The 
Aryan unconscious has a higher potential than the Jewish; 
that is the advantage and the disadvantage of a youthfulness 
not yet fully estranged from barbarism." 3 

Since this article was to be printed in Germany (in 1934) 
I had to write in a somewhat veiled manner, but to anyone 
in his senses the meaning should be clear. I had to help these 
people. It had to be made clear that I, an Aryan outside 
Germany, stood for a scientific approach to psychotherapy. 
That was the point! I can not see anything in the least anti- 
Semitic in this statement. It is simply an appraisal of certain 
psychological differences in background, and in point of fact 
it is complimentary to the Jews to point out that they are in 
general more conscious and differentiated than the average 

s Cf. CW 10, par. 353. The translation here is the interviewer's 
and likewise the italics. 



194 



On the Attac\ in the "Saturday Review" 

Aryan, who has remained close to barbarism! And it is an 
historical fact that the Jews have shown a remarkable ability 
to become carriers of the cultures in all lands where they 
have spread. This shows a high degree of civilization, and 
such adaptability is a matter for admiration. Some people 
show a funny kind of resentment when one speaks of differ- 
ences in psychology — but one must admit that different 
nationalities and different races have different outlooks and 
different psychologies. Take the difference between the 
French and the English, or for that matter, between the 
English and the Americans! There is a marked difference in 
psychology everywhere. Only an idiot can not see it. It is 
too ridiculous to be so hypersensitive about such things. 
They are facts of experience not to be ignored. 

What can you say about the quotation: "The American 
presents to us a strange picture: a European with Negro 
mannerisms and an Indian soul"?* 

This must be taken from a popular interview back in 
1930 or thereabouts. The psychology of the unconscious does 
not lend itself to popular treatment. It is too easily mis- 
understood — all the more so when journalists try to make a 
sensational splash. Such an isolated bald statement nat- 
urally reads like blatant nonsense to anyone familiar with 
the workings of the unconscious mind. Before one can make 
any sense out of such a statement one needs to know how we 
can be influenced through the unconscious. I can just as well 
speak of the primitive contents of the European unconscious. 
There is no critical slur in these things. Indeed, for a wide- 
awake person, the primitive contents may often prove to be 
a source of renewal. The American unconscious is highly 
interesting, because it contains more varied elements and has 
a higher tension, owing to the melting-pot and the trans- 
plantation to a primitive soil, which caused a break in the 
traditional background of the Europeans who became Amer- 

4 "Mind and Earth" (orig. 1927), CW 10, par. 103. 



'95 



1949 

icans. On the other hand, Americans are in a way more 
highly civilized than Europeans, and on the other hand 
their wellspring of life energy reaches greater depths. The 
American unconscious contains an immense number of pos- 
sibilities. I cannot pretend to have attained a comprehensive 
view of it, and even that view which I have can not be 
compressed into a few sentences for an interview. 

Mr. Hillyer claims that in 1936 you said that "Hitler's new 
order in Germany seemed to offer the only hope of Eu- 
rope. 

Many Americans asked me what I thought about Hitler 
and his ideas, in the autumn of 1936, and I always expressed 
concern for the future of Europe. It is not true that I ever 
admired Hitler. However, in the early years, before the 
power devil finally took the upper hand with Hitler, he 
brought about many reforms and to a certain extent served 
the German people constructively. I may have said some- 
thing of this kind as well as talking of the dangers ahead, 
which I had already written about. If I state an historical 
fact people immediately jump to the conclusion that that 
implies admiration! The mockery of it! My whole life work 
is based on the psychology of the individual, and his re- , 
sponsibility both to himself and his milieu. Mass movements 
swallow individuals wholesale, and an individual who thus 
loses his identity has lost his soul. Such a widespread 
phenomenon has well-nigh destroyed our civilization, and 
the danger is by no means over yet! 

Hitler became the mouthpiece of all the undercurrents 
seething in the German people. This fact was aptly ex- 
pressed by the oft-repeated phrase that Hitler followed his 
intuition with the false "assurance and accuracy of a sleep- 
walker"— until he came to the edge of the precipice from 
which there was no escape. In my paper on "Wotan" 6 I de- 

5 This quotation could not be documented. 

6 Orig. in Neue Schweizer Rundschau (Zurich), March 1936. A 

196 



On the Attach in the "Saturday Review" 

scribed how the wind god of old provided a very apt picture 
of the force which seized on the German people, stirring up 
the long-buried barbaric past. I wrote this article in 1936 as a 
, warning for those who could understand its implications. 
When the unconscious of a whole people is stirred to such 
an extent, and there is no conscious and responsible leader 
to canalize the released forces, then the devil takes hold and 
the destructive forces rush headlong to their final destruc- 
tion, but only after half destroying the world around them. 
That is the tragedy. 

Anyone who takes the trouble to read what I wrote both 
before and during the war will find my real views concerning 
mass psychology and its dangers, but my warning voice 
was not heard. 

Can you say anything about the wor\ of your Jewish 
followers? 

There is plenty of evidence of their friendly collaboration 
with me. Dr. Gerhard Adler, in London, has continually 
defended me against the accusation of anti-Semitism. Dr. 
Ernest Harms, in America, as I already mentioned, pains- 
takingly wrote up the true history of my connection with 
the Zentralblatt. He, incidentally, studied with both Freud 
and myself, but does not count himself as belonging to 
either school. Dr. Erich Neumann, of Tel Aviv, has written 
several books based on his study of my psychological views. 
There are many others I might mention, and, as you know, 
there is a large group of Jewish pupils here in Zurich. 

The fact that you accepted the editorship of the Zentralblatt 
fur Psychotherapie and the honorary chairmanship of the 
International Society for Psychotherapy , in 1933, has greatly 
influenced Americans against you. Could you say something 
about this? 

shortened version appeared in Saturday Review of Literature, Oct. 
16, 1937. Now in CW 10. 



197 



1949 

An objective review of the facts concerning this critical 
period in the history of European psychotherapy, and the 
motives which led me to try to save an international scien- 
tific organization of physicians, has been written by Dr. 
Harms, as I just said. I can add little to what he has written. 
However, I may sum up that when I, as a Swiss, accepted 
this position it was my aim to preserve a spirit of scientific 
cooperation among all European doctors in face of the Nazi 
anti-Semitism then first raising its head. It was impossible 
to fight the Nazi intolerance openly without endangering 
the position of all German doctors, and of German Jewish 
doctors in particular. But I did what I could as quietly as 
possible, and succeeded in getting a special paragraph 
adopted by the international society, whereby German Jew- 
ish physicians (who were barred from membership in the 
German branch society) could individually become mem- 
bers of the international organization. Thus they were able 
to become full members with equal rights. Later, when 
through the influence of the Nazis, Dr. M. H. Goring (a 
cousin of Hermann Goring) became co-editor of the Zen- 
tralblatt, and other Nazi doctors were foisted upon us (in 
1936 and '37) my position gradually became untenable. Dur- 
ing this fateful time the Nazis played double with my name. 
On the one hand, my name was placed on their black list on 
account of various things I had written which they could not 
swallow, as, for instance, my lecture on the "Theory of 
Complexes," 7 held in Bad Nauheim in May 1934, in which 
I paid tribute to Freud. Still later, my Swiss publisher re- 
ceived news that my books were banned and destroyed. On 
the other hand, the Nazis were only too pleased to publicize 
my name, as a Swiss feather in their caps, in an effort to 
prop their waning reputation in the eyes of the world. Many 
false and conflicting rumors were circulated about me: that 
I was anti-Semitic, that I was a Jew, that I was Hitler's 

7 "A Review of the Complex Theory," CW 8, pars. 2i2fT. 

198 



On the Attack^ in the "Saturday Review" 

doctor, etc., etc. The fact that my name became associated 
with Goring's on the Zentralblatt editorial board naturally 
put me in an increasingly false position, especially when he 
printed his famous pronouncement about Mein Kampf. 
This was inserted in the Zentralblatt without my consent, 
and I had not laid eyes on the manuscript before it appeared 
in print. Of course this statement represented the point of 
view of the German society only, never of the international 
society as a whole. Since the Zentralblatt was published in- 
side of Germany, the Nazis enforced their influence when- 
ever they could. 

The task which I had accepted, namely the preservation 
•of a non-political international society, finally became too 
heavy a burden and in fact an impossible undertaking. In 
the meantime, I attempted to do my duty in this respect as 
any other decent man would have done in my place. Sev- 
eral times I wanted to withdraw and I attempted to resign, 
but at the urgent request of the English and Dutch repre- 
sentatives, who begged me "for the sake of the whole 
organization to stay on," I stayed on. You can not quit 
people when they are in a hole. It has helped many people 
that I stuck to my post. One can say it was a foolish idealism 
which caused me to stand by, but it seemed to me unfair to 
all the people clinging to me to leave them in the lurch. My 
standpoint was: I'm not a rat which runs from a sinking 
ship; and so I did not actually resign until the end of 1939, 
when the war began and I could be of no further use. Then 
all international communications were disrupted. 

I have never desired to get involved in political events, 
but as a troubled Swiss onlooker and a conscientious psycho- 
logical observer, I have naturally had certain reactions to the 
disturbing events of the time we live in. I might add that in 
1941 I delivered a lecture before a meeting of Swiss psycho- 
therapists entitled "Psychotherapy Today" 8 in which I con- 

8 The opening address to the Kommission fur Psychotherapie, 



199 



1949 

demned the totalitarian state at a time when the victorious 
panzer divisions were barely sixty-five miles away, and I 
knew the Nazis planned to make short work of me when 
and if they crossed the Swiss border. 

Schweizerische Gesellschaft fiir Psychiatrie, Zurich, July 19, 1941. 
First published 1945, except for the private publication of a trans- 
lation in Spring, 1942. Now in CW 16. 



200 



MAN AND HIS ENVIRONMENT 



I H II IIItM I M I MIItllll 



The eminent Swiss geographer Hans Carol (1915-1971), a 
member of the Institute of Geography at Zurich University, was 
developing guidelines for regional planning in the Canton of 
Zurich when, in 1950, he sought the views of various people 
important in Swiss intellectual life. One of these was Jung, who 
gave him a half hour's appointment on February 8, 1950. The 
subject so engrossed Jung that he kept Carol nearly an hour 
longer. In 1958 Carol came to America, and from 1962 until his 
death he was professor of geography at York University, 
Toronto, where his chief interest was the geography of Africa. 
He came across the notes of his conversation with Jung much 
later and wrote them up for the Neue Zurcher Zeitung's 
literary supplement, June 2, 1963; this version is translated 
here, with Carol's introduction reduced to the question. The 
account was published in slightly different form (translated) 
in Landscape (Santa Fe), spring 1965, and the paragraph 
beginning with an asterisk, on page 203, is from that version. 



/ would be grateful if you, as a leading psychologist, would 
comment on the subject of man and his environment. Al- 
though we planners try not to loo\ at the human being as a 
mere product of his physical environment, we believe none- 
theless that the environment is a crucial factor in human 
existence, fust as men are influenced by education, they are 
surely also influenced by the environment society designs 
for them. 

I am very pleased that you are devoting your attention to 
this question. The abstract nature of work in a technological 
age leaves the worker dissatisfied. Dissatisfaction induces 
people to look for compensation elsewhere, Suggestibility 
increases geometrically according to the number of persons 



201 



1950 

involved. Mass mental disorder may reach epidemic pro- 
portions. Decentralization, on the other hand, allows for 
small social units. Every man should have his own plot of 
land so that the instincts can come to life again. To own 
land is important psychologically, and there is no substitute 
for it. We keep forgetting that we are primates and that we 
have to make allowances for these primitive layers in our 
psyche. The farmer is still closer to these layers. In tilling 
the earth he moves around within a very narrow radius, but 
he moves on his own land. The industrial worker is a 
pathetic, rootless being, and his remuneration in money is 
not tangible but abstract. In earlier times, when the crafts 
flourished, he derived satisfaction from seeing the fruit of 
his labor. He found adequate self-expression in such work. 
But this is no longer the case. First of all, he is responsible 
for only a small part of the finished product. Secondly, the 
product is sold, it disappears, and he has no further stake in 
it. Because the psychological reward is inadequate, the 
worker rebels against his employer and against "capitalism" 
as a whole. We all need nourishment for our psyche. It is 
impossible to find such nourishment in urban tenements 
without a patch of green or a blossoming tree. We need a 
relationship with nature. I am just a culture-coolie myself, 
but I derive a great deal of pleasure from growing my own 
potatoes. People tend to look for the Kingdom of God in 
the outer world rather than in their own souls. This is par- 
ticularly true of socialism. Individuation is not only an up- 
ward but also a downward process. Without any body, there 
is no mind and therefore no individuation. Our civilizing 
potential has led us down the wrong path. All too often an 
American worker who owns only one car considers himself 
a poor devil, because his boss has two or three cars. This is 
symptomatic of pointless striving for material possessions. 

Yet, we need to project ourselves into the things around 
us. My self is not confined to my body. It extends into all 
the things I have made and all the things around me. With- 



202 



Man and His Environment 

out these things, I would not be myself; I would not be a 
human being, I would merely be a human ape, a primate. 
Everything surrounding me is part of me, and that is pre- 
cisely why a rented apartment is disastrous. It offers so few 
possibilities for self-expression. In a standardized apartment, 
in a standardized milieu, it is easy to lose the sense of one's 
own personality, of one's individuality. 

A community is based on personal relationships. No 
community can evolve where people can easily move house- 
holds from one place to another. The one-family house, the 
house owned by its inhabitants, is much better because it 
necessarily engenders a sense of permanence. 

If man has a hand in shaping his environment, it will 
reflect his personality. A Soviet collective farm lacks soul, 
and the people who live on it are a dull, unhappy lot be- 
cause they have been deprived of any opportunity for per- 
sonal expression. 

* When capitalism takes everything out of the hands of the 
worker, he feels he has been robbed. Therefore our eco- 
nomic system must put something else within his grasp. In 
particular, the worker must be enabled to have a personal 
leisure-time occupation, and this again is best suited to the 
private dwelling, the family, the garden. The economic 
drawbacks of fixed permanent residence are less important. 

Life in a small city is better than life in a large one, 
politically, socially, and in terms of community relations. 
Big cities are responsible for our uprootedness. 

The Swiss are mentally more balanced and not so neu- 
rotic as many peoples. We are fortunate to live in a great 
number of small cities. If I do not have what my psyche 
needs, I become dangerous. 

Because in our country the government is reluctant to aid 
community projects, the projects that do materialize are all 
the more genuine and valuable. 

A captive animal cannot return to freedom. But our 
workers can return. We see them doing it in the allotment 



203 



1950 

gardens 1 in and around our cities; these gardens are an 
expression of love for nature and for one's own plot of land. 
As our working hours become shorter, the question of 
leisure time becomes increasingly essential to us, time in 
which we are free of commands and restraints and in which 
we can achieve self-realization. I am fully committed to the 
idea that human existence should be rooted in the earth. 

[Translated by Robert and Rita Kimber and Ruth Horine] 

1 On the continent and in England, small garden plots usually 
on the outskirts of a city. 



204 



COMMENTS ON A DOCTORAL 
THESIS 



Toward a Ph.D. degree at the New School for Social Research, 
New York, in early 1952, Ira Progoff submitted as his thesis a 
presentation of Jung's psychological theories and an interpreta- 
tion of their significance for the social sciences. This was, most 
probably, the first serious notice of Jung's work by a social 
scientist. Progoff sent his manuscript to the Bollingen Founda- 
tion, which was about to begin the publication of the Collected 
Works of Jung, and it came to the attention of one of the 
Foundation's advisers, Cary F. Baynes, an old friend of Jung's. 
Recognizing the significance of ProgofT's monograph, she sent 
the thesis to Jung to read and asked her daughter, Ximena de 
Angulo, who lived in Switzerland and had known Jung since 
her childhood, to facilitate matters by taking down Jung's 
comments. Miss de Angulo sent Progoff her report of the 
interview — as the discussion turned out to be — and he took 
account of Jung's remarks in revising his thesis for eventual 
publication as a book: Jung's Psychology and Its Social Meaning 

(!953)- 
Progoff, who had been a welfare worker while studying at 

the New School, was enabled through a Bollingen Fellowship 
to go to Switzerland in 1953. He met Jung for discussions and 
attended the Eranos Conference in August, where he came 
under the influence of the Zen scholar, D. T. Suzuki. Out of 
his experiences he wrote The Death and Rebirth of Psychology 
(1956). In 1966, Progoff founded Dialogue House, of which he 
is director, and which fosters a program for personal develop- 
ment through the "intensive journal" process. 

A copy of Ximena de Angulo's interview was placed in the 
archives of Bollingen Foundation, where it was found nearly 
twenty years later and made available for publication in the 
present collection, with the permission of Miss de Angulo and 
Dr. Progoff. It is published in full, except for the deletion of 



205 



1952 

page numbers in the thesis, as these have no systematic rela- 
tionship to the revised book. 



The interview took place in the summerhouse at the bottom 
of the garden. We each had a copy of the thesis, and I had 
brought along pad and pencil so as to be able to take notes. 
As a starting question I asked Jung if he thought the 
thesis merited expansion into a book, and he said without a 
moment's hesitation: "Oh, yes, most definitely." He went on 
to say that as it stood, its most obvious shortcoming was a 
certain onesidedness, that it told "only half the story." "You 
see, I am not a philosopher. I am not a sociologist— I am a 
medical man. I deal with facts. This cannot be emphasized 
too muchi" This, in a way, turned out to be the leitmotiv 
of the interview; he recurred to it again and again. I re- 
ceived the impression that what bothered him about the 
work was that it was phrased as though he had had social 
theories in mind from the beginning. I pointed out that in a 
thesis designed to prove the relevance of his ideas to the 
social sciences that had perhaps been unavoidable. He said 
yes, yes, that was probably so; but it was clear that he 
attaches the greatest possible importance to accentuating 
his standpoint as a medical man, as an empiricist who 
discovers certain facts and erects hypotheses to explain them, 
but who is not responsible for the implications, philosophi- 
cal or otherwise, that may be drawn from his statements. He 
said that he was all the time being accused of making 
philosophical statements, because he made use of philosophi- 
cal concepts, and because he didn't shy away from making 
his assumptions clear, but that his statements were not 
intended as philosophy, they were intended as descriptions 
of fact. "I am not particularly well read in philosophy. I 
simply have had to make use of philosophical concepts to 
formulate my findings." 

206 



Comments on a Doctoral Thesis 

He went on to say that he thought the derivation of these 
philosophical concepts should be clarified. "My conceptions 
are much more like Cams than like Freud." Kant, Schopen- 
hauer, C. G. Carus, and Eduard von Hartmann "had pro- 
vided him with the tools of thought." He had read their 
works when young, perhaps as early as his sixteenth year, at 
any rate well before the beginning of his medical studies, 
and they had influenced his thinking decisively. "To 
Schopenhauer I owe the dynamic view of the psyche; the 
'Will' is the libido that is back of everything." It is a force 
outside consciousness, something that is not the ego. Kant 
had shown that the world is tied to the "I," to the thinking 
subject, but here was this non-ego, this "Will" that was out- 
side the Kantian critique. When Jung came to study the 
dissociation of consciousness observable in schizophrenia, 
where people talk under the influence of something other 
than the ego, this non-ego struck him as the same thing as 
Schopenhauer's "Will." "The great question was, is there a 
non-ego, is there something that can pull me out of the 
isolation-in-the-ego of the Kantian world picture?" 

It is correct that Burckhardt and Nietzsche influenced 
him; however, they were indirect, "side influences," Jung 
said. They were part of the atmosphere of Basel at the time 
he was growing up, though Nietzsche had already left the 
city then; "Burckhardt was our daily bread. I used to see 
him every day, going to his work." Everybody read him. 

Nietzsche was a great psychological critic. "We were 
living at a time when there had been no wars within men's 
memory, but here was a man who saw war coming, who 
wrote that the next century would be the most warlike of 
all. I felt that he was right." But it was as a phenomenon 
that Nietzsche made the deepest impression on Jung. He 
saw the non-ego at work in him; Nietzsche was in a fever, 
in a passion, a passion that "gripped" Jung. He told how 
Nietzsche's insights and visions had tremendous fascination 



207 



1952 



to a person living at that time who thought about the con- 
temporary situation. "In his thirty-seventh year, Zarathustra 
happened to Nietzsche . . . 'da ward die eins zu zwei, Zara- 
thustra ging an mir vorbei.' In 1888 he went mad. That was 
a tremendous event; it made a deep impression on me." 

Bachofen also influenced him. "He influenced my under- 
standing of the nature of symbols." 

Jung thought that if the thesis were expanded, it might be 
a good idea to take his later writings more into considera- 
tion, especially Aion and Die Psychologie der V bertragung} 
These, he said, were the generalities. Then he drew out a 
list, and we began going through the thesis point by point: 

"(it is not) that the unconscious is held in common. . . ." 
Jung: "That is leaning over backwards. It is collective, is 
held in cdmmon. 'Collective' may be objectionable in some 
ways, but it does convey the fact that we share unconscious 
contents, that there is participation mystique." 

". . . Jung's use of the term (unconscious) may partly be 
accounted for by the fact that he developed his thought 
while working under the influence of Sigmund Freud, and 
that he naturally adapted for his own system the terms with 
which he had been accustomed to working." This is not 
true, Jung said. "I had these thoughts long before I came to 
Freud. Unconscious is an epistemological term deriving 
from von Hartmann. Freud was not much of a philosopher, 
he was strictly a medical man. I had read these philosophers 
long before I ever saw Freud. I came to Freud for facts. I 
read The Interpretation of Dreams, and I thought Oh, here 
is a man who is not just theorizing away, here is a man 
who has got facts. This was not Freud's first publication, 
but it was the first one I read, then I read the others. We 
met in 1906." 2 

1 Aion (orig, 1951) is CW 9 ii; "The Psychology of the Trans- 
ference" (orig. 1946) is in CW 16. 

2 Freud and Jung actually met first, in Vienna, on March 3, 1907, 

208 



Comments on a Doctoral Thesis 

From the beginning, Jung said, he had occupied himself 
very much with zoology, with comparative zoology. Here 
he looked at me keenly to see if I took in the import of this 
statement. When I responded, he went on with a gleam in 
his eye: "I was especially interested in palaeontology; you 
see, my life work in historical comparative psychology is 
like palaeontology. That is the study of the archetypes of 
the animals, and this is the study of the archetypes in the 
soul. The Eohippus is the archetype of the modern horse, 
the archetypes are like the fossil animals." 

This led me to ask him what had first taken him into 
psychiatry. "Oh," he said, "that was not until the very end 
of my medical studies. I had been acting as assistant to von 
Miiller 3 , the internist, who had received a call to Germany, 
and he wanted to take me along. In my last semester, I was 
preparing for my final exams, and I also had to know 
something about psychiatry, so I took up Krafft-Ebing's 
textbook on psychiatry. I read first the Introduction . . . and 
then it happened. Then it happened. I thought, this is it, 
this is the confluence of medicine and philosophy! This is 
what I have been looking for! They all thought I was 
crazy, they couldn't understand me at all, they thought I 
was giving up the chance of a fine career to enter a blind 
alley of medicine! You see, my professors all knew that in 
internal medicine they had facts to work with, something to 
build on, and they saw a great future for it, but psychiatry, 
that was sort of a strange no man's land tacked onto medi- 
cine, no one really knew anything. It was all up in the air, 
and it led nowhere." 

I said that looking back now, his professors' reaction was 
really not surprising because, before his and Freud's work, 
psychiatry really didn't have any solid foundation and no 

but their correspondence began in 1906. See The Freud/Jung 
Letters. 

3 Friedrich von Miiller, at Basel University, later Munich. See 
Memories, Dreams, Reflections, p. 107/110. 



209 



1952 

place much to go. "Well, yes, that is so," he assented. "But 
I knew absolutely that this was the thing for me; it came 
over me with the most tremendous rush. You know, my 
heart beat so" — he spoke with great emphasis and looked at 
me intently — "I could hardly stand it; I was in a regular 
state!" And even at this distance in time he managed, by his 
voice and the forceful way he gestured, to convey something 
to me of the intensity of this experience! To me this was 
the high point of the interview — well, no, perhaps there was 
another one, which I'm coming to later — but at any rate it 
made the greatest possible impression on me to see how 
vividly he was able to reproduce this event before the mind's 
eye; one could feel the sense of destiny, the nervous excite- 
ment that must have gripped him. 

". . . term 'persona' . . . derived from Etruscan, meaning 
mask." Jung said the Latin word persona came from per 
sonare, to sound through, because masks had a sort of tube 
inside, from the actor's mouth into the mouth of the mask, a 
built-in megaphone to amplify the sound so it would carry. 
The mask came to be called persona after this megaphone. 
Not Etruscan. 

". . . the therapy of individuation . . ." Jung: "Why therapy? 
It is not a therapy. Is it therapy when a cat becomes a cat? 
It is a natural process. Individuation is a natural process. It 
is what makes a tree turn into a tree; if it is interfered with, 
then it becomes sick and cannot function as a tree, but left 
to itself it develops into a tree. That is individuation." I said 
I had always understood that individuation involved con- 
sciousness. "Oh," he said, "that is an overvaluation of 
consciousness. Consciousness is a part of it, perhaps, yes, but 
that depends on how much consciousness there is naturally 
there. Consciousness can also block individuation by not 
allowing what is in the unconscious to develop." He said it 
was therapy to restore the free flow from the unconscious, 
but the process itself is natural, and it will force itself 



210 



Comments on a Doctoral Thesis 

through whether therapy is applied or not. If a person is 
meant to be an artist, but does something else, then pretty 
soon this development which is blocked will produce all 
kinds of symptoms, and in the end he will find himself 
painting whether he wants to or not, or else he will be very 
sick. 

I asked him if it was what made a tree grow into a tree, 
if it was not the same thing as the Aristotelian entelechy, 
the inherent potentialities within the acorn which develop 
it into the oak. He hesitated, and I had to say it again 
another way, but then he said it was the same thing. (I 
think his prejudice against Aristotle is so great that it made 
him unwilling to commit himself; probably because "Aris- 
totelian" thinking within the Church produces such intel- 
lectual aridity and doctrinaire rigidity.) 

I was still not quite sure I had understood aright, and I 
said it had always bothered me whether, say, a Hindu yogin 
or a primitive medicine man, a truly wise one, of course, 
could be considered to be individuated, since they were not 
"conscious" in our sense of what went on inside them. 
"Well, I don't know about that," he said. "They may not be 
conscious but they hear the inner voice, they act on it, they 
do not go against it — that is what counts. The primitive may 
not formulate it in the way you mean, but he has a pretty 
clear idea what goes on; I understand his language. When 
I go to him, we speak the same language." 

"You know, it is possible to have 'consciousness' in globo, 
so to speak, without its being differentiated." It is on this 
that the Church bases the development of its dogma; 
otherwise we today would be in the position of knowing 
more than the apostles, since the dogma has been set down 
in the intervening centuries. What has been defined and 
differentiated into dogma was present in globo in the in- 
spiration of the apostles. 

He repeated that individuation was a natural process; 
that "it can happen without consciousness." 



211 



1952 



These statements, and especially the decisiveness and as- 
surance with which he made them, made a deep impression 
on me. The part about how he came to specialize in psy- 
chiatry was the most exciting of the interview, because it is 
a moving thing to hear how a person received the "call," 
and because it opened up new perspectives for my own 
private research into his philosophical antecedents, the 
subject I had originally meant to write my thesis on. But 
this part held the most meaning for me. The thought of this 
principium individuationis at work through all nature and 
through all mankind, East and West, has something awe- 
inspiring and majestic about it. I can't explain exactly why 
it came as a revelation to me. I had previously had a slightly 
different perspective on it, with more of an accent on effort 
and less on nature and process. That he knew so definitely 
what he was talking about gave me a direct intuition of the 
importance of "fact" and "experience" in psychology. I 
could see that it was a fact that he was talking about, 
though it might escape definition, just as a tree is a fact. A 
tree is not a bad analogy, because we do not understand 
how a tree functions either, how it raises up to its crown the 
huge volume of water that circulates in its system, for 
example, yet the tree is an indisputable fact, a natural 
process. 



". . . meaning of terms 'introvert,' 'extravert' depends on 
context of Jung's theory of types, can only be grasped in 
terms of his total system . . ." Jung's comment here was that 
this was misleading; his terms are not deduced, they arise 
from the facts. He feels that whatever application is made 
of his ideas, in fairness to him it should always be phrased 
so that this fact of cardinal importance is clear. For the same 
reason he objects strenuously to the word "system"; he says 
he has no system, he deals with facts and attempts to con- 
struct hypotheses to cover them. "System" sounds closed, 



212 



Comments on a Doctoral Thesis 

dogmatic, rigid. He wants the experimental, empirical, 
hypothetical nature of his work emphasized. 

As to the spelling of extravert, he says extrovert is bad 
Latin and should not be used. He also prefers archetype. 

Paragraph on incest. Jung suggests looking up Die Psycho- 
logic der Vbertragung for a clearer view of the meaning of 
incest. Paragraph as it stands is insufficient. 

(Immediately following the preceding sentence is a nota- 
tion which is clear enough in itself, but which doesn't seem 
to me now to have much connection with the incest para- 
graph. However, I shall set it down here.) "The archetype 
is the form of instinct, it is how the instinct appears to us; 
cf. 'Der Geist der Psychologie,' Eranos Jahrbuch 1946." 4 
Jung went on to say that an example of what he meant was 
the story of King Albrecht and Johannes, later known as 
Johannes Parricida. 5 The king and his suite were riding 
from Zurich to Basel. Johannes and some companions 
wished to murder the king, but they couldn't seem to make 
up their minds to do the deed. Johannes kept hesitating. 
When they came to the ford over the Limmat, at Baden, 
then he did it, he murdered the king. "That is the arche- 
type; you see, the ford is the natural ambush, the place 
where the hero slays the dragon. Then suddenly Johannes 
found it in him to do the deed; the archetype was con- 
stellated." 

". . . Jung considers the libido intensity of the anima to be 
so great that he refers to it as 'mana,' that is, as having a 
miraculous quality." (Ref. to Two Essays.) 6 Jung says he 
never could have said "miraculous" but ausserordentlich 

4 Augmented and revised as "On the Nature of the Psyche," CW 8. 

5 Cf. the version of this story in "The Houston Films," p. 293. 
The murder of the Habsburg king, Albert I, in 1308, actually oc- 
curred at Windisch, on the Reuss River. 

8 Two Essays on Analytical Psychology, CW 7. 



213 



1952 

wir\sam, i.e., effective, or even numinous. But not miracu- 
lous. 

". . . Jung's concept of individuation . . . opens the pos- 
sibility of new conceptions of the nature of Man." Jung said 
to put "of the nature of the psyche." 

". . . as Jung uses the term 'consciousness,' it signifies a part, 
a small part of consciousness in general." Jung said this is 
unclear, should be a "part of the cognitive" or something 
like that. Consciousness simply is consciousness, not part 
of it. 

"The representation collective refers to the condition in 
which there is a failure to distinguish between the individ- 
ual and the group as a whole." According to Jung, the above 
is participation mystique. A representation collective is a gen- 
erally held idea, like "democracy is the best form of govern- 
ment," which everyone accepts without questioning; a kind 
of basic premise which is simply assumed to be true, which 
nobody dreams of investigating. All sorts of cultural and 
political slogans would come under this heading. 

He went on to say that he had known Levy-Bruhl per- 
sonally, that he had been Jung's house guest in Kiisnacht. 
Levy-Bruhl had had many good ideas, but contemporary 
sociologists and anthropologists had completely failed to 
understand him, had misunderstood his idea that primitives 
think a-logically, and especially the conception of participa- 
tion mystique. These attacks had rattled him so much that 
later he took a lot back, and in later editions dropped the 
"mystique" out of the term, but Jung has stuck to the for- 
mulation of the first edition because he thinks it accurately 
describes the facts. 

In this connection, Jung told of having gone to hear a 
lecturer who attacked the concept of participation mystique, 
and who told an anecdote to illustrate the fact that natives 
distinguish perfectly between themselves and others, and 



214 



Comments on a Doctoral Thesis 

between persona and objects. While the railroad from 
Mombasa to Nairobi was being built, a great deal of Native 
labor had to be employed, and the white engineers had the 
greatest trouble in getting them to work without constant 
supervision. As soon as the engineer's back was turned, 
they dropped their work. One man thought he would fix 
that. He had a glass eye, and when he had to leave, he called 
the Natives together and said: "I am going, but I am 
leaving my eye to watch you," and he took the eye out and 
placed it oh the table. "You keep working, because this eye 
will see you if you stop." When he returned he found to 
his consternation that nobody had worked. "We put a hat 
over your eye so it couldn't see us loafing," the Natives told 
him. 

Far from disproving Levy-Bruhl's conception, as the 
lecturer thought, this anecdote backs it up : so little were the 
Natives able to separate the glass eye from its wearer that 
they went to the trouble to put a hat over it to prevent it 
from "seeing." When Jung afterward wrote a polite letter 
to the speaker pointing out this fact, he received an irate 
reply, and the lecturer became his life-long enemy ! 

". . . Jung's failure to be able to give an absolute definition 
of consciousness . . ." Jung commented: "How can con- 
sciousness explain itself?" 

"The 'collective representations' by which society contains 
the individual, etc . . ." Again, it should be "participation 
mystique." Jung reworded the sentence to read as follows: 
"The participation mystique by which society contains the 
individual may be understood as a statement of the fact that 
individuals are still undifferentiated from each other, that is 
to say, they have not yet been self-consciously broken up 
into individual personalities." 

"On this 'pre-conscious' level, the individual contains him- 
self within his own archetype . . ." Jung corrected this to 



215 



1952 

read: "On this 'pre-conscious' level the individual is un- 
conscious of himself." He said "within his own archetype" 
was misleadingly worded, that a clear distinction must be 
made between the archetype and archetypal images, which 
is how the archetype appears to us. 

"The archetypes exist in the unconscious as undifferentiated 
symbols . . ." Jung suggests rereading "Der Geist der Psy- 
chologic" (Eranos 1946) : the archetypes are psychoeides, are 
noumena (not numina!). Only the image is empirical, he 
said. 

". . . the individual in society may be understood as a piece 
of the archetype, a piece that has been differentiated out of 
the collective representation." Jung: ". . . differentiated out 
of participation mystique, i.e., out of the collective uncon- 
scious." He said, "The archetype of the individual is the 
Self. The Self is all embracing. God is a circle whose center 
is everywhere and whose circumference is nowhere." 7 

". . . symbol ... in other areas it appears with metaphysical 
or ontological overtones where it leads into the philosophical 
side of his system." Jung said if one studied the definitions 
of "symbol" in the Types 8 one saw that it was not meta- 
physical. (I think what he is getting at here and in other 
places is that he does not aim for a metaphysical overtone or 
for philosophical aspects. If we find such overtones it is be- 
cause general usage has given some of the concepts he makes 
use of such overtones. He could, of course, have chosen 
entirely new terms, but I think he did not do so because he 
wants to redefine the traditional terms, show where they 
arise out of experience, and thus keep the tradition alive, but 
with a different foundation.) 

7 "God is an intelligible sphere whose center is everywhere and 
whose circumference is nowhere." — St. Bonaventure, Hinerarium 
mentis in Deum (13th cent.), cited by Jung in Mysterium Coniunc- 
tionis, CW 14, par. 41, n. 42, and elsewhere. 

8 Psychological Types, CW 6. 

216 



Comments on a Doctoral Thesis 

"Only by the fact that (the libido analogue) comes from the 
collective suprapersonal layer of the unconscious is it able to 
function as a transformer of psychic energies . . ." Jung 
said this was well-expressed and showed the correct under- 
standing of what he means by "collective" in collective un- 
conscious. 

". . . psychological problems of Western man . . ." Jung said 
Protestantism also belongs in the context, i.e., pre-Christian 
paganism, Greco-Hebrew religiosity, and Protestantism. 

This brought to my mind the reference to his Swiss 
Calvinist background, and I asked if it was correct. He 
said no, no touch of Calvinism. The Reformation was intro- 
duced in Basel by Oecolampadius (in 1529), according to 
Jung the mildest of all the Reformers. Important factors in 
keeping the Reform within bounds were the fact that the 
city was a bishop's seat and that the university had been 
founded by Aeneas Silvius (Piccolomini) when he became 
Pope Pius II. Of all Swiss Protestant cities, Basel has always 
had the most tolerance and understanding of Catholic ways, 
viz., the celebrated Basler Fastnacht. Jung attributes his 
own attempts at a sympathetic understanding of Catholi- 
cism to this element in his background. 

". . . when a culture becomes too highly rationalized . . . 
individuals are not able to experience the natural flow of 
unconscious materials." Jung commented that symbols can 
lose their efficiency; they age. 

"The result is a vacuum in the psyche between the upper 
and lower layers." Jung: "What should that be?" He seemed 
to think the idea ought to be worded differently. 

"The mechanisms of convention . . . keep people uncon- 
scious. . . . (They) follow their customary runways without 
the effect of conscious choice." Jung suggested saying "with- 
out bothering about conscious choice, without being con- 
fronted with the necessity of making up their minds." 



217 



1952 

"The lunatic is an individual completely overcome by the 
unconscious." Jung says it must read: "more or less over- 
come by the unconscious." I pointed out that it appeared to 
be a direct quotation from his writings, but that didn't 
bother him. He said in that case it must be incorrectly 
translated. 

". . . (demons) involve the reactivation of archaic images 
stored in the unconscious from past historical eras . . ." Jung 
corrected this to read "they are the archetypal images which 
are always in the unconscious." He commented in general 
that it is important to differentiate the terminology cor- 
rectly. 

". . . Jung's statement that the entire tradition of psycho- 
analysis — commencing with Freud and extending through 
his own work — has been possible only because Western 
civilization has been passing through a crisis in its deepest 
beliefs." (My italics.) Jung says this must be taken much 
further back; the tradition begins with the German Ro- 
mantics, comes down through Schopenhauer, Cams, etc., 
i.e., requires to be set in a larger historical perspective. 

". . . Jung's conception of consciousness . . . two levels of 
meaning: one as the totality of the psyche, that is to say, as 
cognition in general; . . . the other as the small segment of 
awareness that centers around the ego." (My italics.) Jung 
said the first (italicized) part is wrong, only the second is 
correct. 

"... contemporary situation . . . searching for new religions, 
. . . etc." Jung asked to have the words "and moral" inserted 
into the latter part of the sentence, i.e., "the total questioning 
of intellectual and moral values and the search throughout 
Western civilization for the meaning of life." 



218 



THE HELL OF INITIATION 



IHU ' ltlMMHtm i tU 



J. P. Hodin, a British art critic and historian, of Czech origin, 
had studied Jung's statements about art and creativity, par- 
ticularly in his essays on Joyce and on Picasso. Feeling dis- 
satisfaction with Jung's explanation of his point of view, he 
requested an appointment to discuss psychology and modern 
art, and Jung received him at his house in Ktisnacht on June 
17, 1952. Hodin's account of the interview was published in his 
book Modern Art and the Modern Mind (Cleveland, 1972), in 
a chapter titled as above, part of which had been included in a 
lecture, "C. G. Jung and Modern Art," at the Institute of 
Contemporary Arts, London, in February 1954. The present 
version is recast in dialogue form. 



(In a small study, its windows opening on the garden and 
the lake beyond it, lung awaited me: a writing-desk in one 
corner, bookcases, a few insignificant pictures of small size 
in dar^ frames on the wall — landscapes, figures, Jung bade 
me welcome and asked me to be seated in a chair near the 
window. He was over medium height, had a strong frame 
which suggested peasant stock, and walked with a rather 
heavy gait. The soundness of his shape was matched by his 
strong gaze. His hair and moustache were white, but he 
seemed younger than his years although he was, he told me, 
just recovering from one of the illnesses which assail old age. 
That is why, when I mentioned in passing an incident from 
the life of the aged Swiss poet Hermann Hesse, Jung spoke 
of having many times lately thought of Freund Hein, which 
is a German expression for death. But he must have em- 
barked on one of his most ambitious works, the Mysterium 
Coniunctionis, 1 at about this same time. 

1 Published 1955-57; CW 14. 



219 



1952 



He listened attentively to my objections. When 1 men- 
tioned that in England his psychology had again and again 
been attacked as unscientific, he was at first indignant. Only 
later followed an even stream of evidence.) 

In comparative anatomy, we speak of morphological phe- 
nomena in man, of organs which resemble the organs of 
animals. We know, for instance, that man has lived through 
early stages of development in the course of his evolution. 
We know the complete genealogy of the horse dating back 
millions of years, and on these facts the science of anatomy 
is founded. There is also a comparative morphology of psy- 
chic images. Folklore is another field of research into moti- 
vation. What I have practiced is simply a comparative 
phenomenology of the mind, nothing else. If someone has a 
dream and we find that dream in identical form in mythol- 
ogy, and if this constantly repeats itself, are we not justified 
in saying with certainty: We are still functioning in the 
same way as those who created that mythological image? 

Take the Eucharist. A god is slain, pierced with a spear, is 
dismembered, eaten. To this day, the piercing of a loaf of 
bread with a silver spear is a ritual of the Greek Church. In 
the Aztec rites, Huitzilopochtli is slain, pierced with a lance. 
His body consists of a dough made from the seeds of plants 
just as the Host is made of white flour, and the pieces are 
distributed and eaten. The undivided and the divided God. 
Think of the use made of the cross in Yucatan. It is the 
same as our adoration of the Cross. Or the myth of Dio- 
nysos. 8 [Jung gave several other examples.] 

The psychiatrists, in treating their cases, know that these 
things happen in the soul of the patients. There are count- 
less ideas, images of the unconscious, which have been 
compared to mythological concepts, because they proved to 
be identical. There is only one method: the comparative 
method. Comparative anatomy, the science of comparative 

2 Cf. "Transformation Symbolism in the Mass," CW n, pars. 
34ort. 

220 



The Hell of Initiation 

religion. Why not then comparative psychology? If we 
draw a circle and divide that circle into four equal parts and 
think of it as a philosophical idea, and the Chinese does the 
same thing, and the Indian too — do you think that it is 
something different when I do it? Unscientific! There are 
only a few heaven-inspired minds who understand me. In 
America it was William James. But most people are ignora- 
muses. They take no pains to find out the essential things 
about themselves. It requires too much Latin and Greek! 

(I asked him if he had any inclination to interpret workj of 
other modern artists — Paul Klee, for example. I had just 
come from Bern, where I had visited Klee's aged sister and 
his son Felix and had seen very early workj of this artist.) 
No. I cannot occupy myself with modern art any more. It 
is too awful. That is why I do not want to know more 
about it. 3 At one time I took a great interest in art. I painted 
myself, sculpted and did wood carving. I have a certain 
sense of color. When modern art came on the scene, it pre- 
sented a great psychological problem for me. Then I wrote 
about Picasso and Joyce. 4 I recognized there something 
which is very unpopular, namely the very thing which con- 

3 Note by J.P.H.: I did not give up the idea that he might one day 
change his mind, and perhaps produce a piece of writing of a more 
positive character on modern art. But a letter which he wrote me on 
September 3, 1955, convinced me of the contrary: ". . . and I regret 
to tell you that I cannot fulfill your wish to write something on 
Kokoschka. I would first have to familiarize myself with the oeuvre 
of this artist and this would be too troublesome a task for me. My 
capacity, unfortunately, is very limited. Nor do I pretend to have 
very much to say about modern art. Most of it is alien to me from 
the human point of view and too disagreeably reminiscent of what 
I have seen in my medical practice. If I were to write something in 
the nature of what you have in mind, I would want to come to grips 
with the subject by way of a critical inquiry. Art is, after all, 
intimately connected with the spirit of the times, and there is a 
great deal in just this spirit of the times to which one could take 
exception. I cannot say that such a task would not attract me, but 
I am afraid it would go beyond my strength." 

4 These essays, orig. published in 1932, are in CW 15. 



221 



1952 

fronts me in my patients. These people are either schizo- 
phrenics or neurotics. Neurotics smart under the problems 
of our age. They smart under the conditions of its time. Art 
derives its life from and expresses the conditions of our time. 
In that sense art is prophetic. It speaks as the plant speaks of 
nature and of the earth, of ground and background. My 
patients make similar pictures. When they are in a chaotic 
state, all forms dissolve. Then panic grips them. Everything 
threatens to fall to pieces and we are in a state of panic — 
though it is an unadmitted panic. What does this art say? 
This art is a flight from the perceptible world, from the 
visible reality. What does it mean, to turn one's eye inward? 
The first thing people see there is the debris of destruction, 
and the infantilism of their own souls. That is why they 
imitate the tyro. People admire the art of the primitives. 
True, it is art, but it is primitive. Or one imitates the draw- 
ings of children. The schizophrenics do that too. To the 
extent that it is a manifestation of a yearning for the pri- 
mary it may have a positive value. But dissolution demands 
synthesis. And I am always concerned with the pile of 
wreckage, with the ruins of that which has been, with 
infantile attempts at something new. The fact is we have 
not yet reached the point when things can be put together. 
And we cannot reach it yet, because the world is cut in two. 
The iron curtain . . . 

A political factor. Has it anything to do with it? 

I should think it has! It hangs over our lives like the 
sword of Damocles. Since 1933 we have witnessed uttermost 
destruction. First it was the Nazis. On two occasions they 
almost got here. If they had, I should have been put against 
the wall. Well, I had settled my accounts with the next 
world. If the Russians come we shall have the "pile of 
wreckage," for even if we are the victors, we know very 
well that we shall do the same thing as they do and with 
the same methods. In America, when they want to cope 



222 



The Hell of Initiation 

with the gangsters, they do it with the help of G-men. That 
means we become like them. I am pessimistic about the 
pile of wreckage. A new revelation from within, one that 
will enable us to see behind the shattered fragments of in- 
fantilism, one in which the true image appears, one that is 
constructive — that is what I am waiting for. We have to 
visualize this image empirically, as at once an idea and a 
living form, the ground for which has long been prepared 
historically. I have always pointed it out. The alchemist 
called it the Round. It is the idea of completeness. The 
Chinese call it Tao — the unity of opposites in the whole. 
Psychologically seen, the process takes place in the center 
of the personality which is not the "I," but another center, 
the greater man in us. For this, too, the ground has been 
prepared psychologically. I see it as form, or, if you like, as 
an idea. Except that an idea without living form is merely 
intellectual. My idea which is also form is like a man who 
has a body. If he has no body, we should not see him. It 
must be visible form and idea at the same time. 

Do you consider science to have had a negative influence on 
modern man? 

Science is only one source of evil. Besides science there 
are technology, religion, philosophy, art. Modern art preach- 
es the same fatality. The destructive role of the intellect, 
of rationalism, not only of science, must share the guilt. 
Everything that should represent the irrational and fails to 
do so is responsible. "La Deesse raison a ses raisons" [the 
goddess of Reason has her own reasons]. This doctrine took 
the stage as a mass movement in the French Revolution, 
and it is the same revolution which we are still experiencing, 
because we have raised Reason to a seat above the gods. 
(What Jung meant by this, I felt, was not God or gods as 
objective realities. As a psychologist all he says is that God 
is an archetype of what is to be found in the soul of man 
and which may be called the image of God. I misunderstood 



223 



1952 

him intentionally in order to ma\e him express himself 
more specifically, and suggested that modern man could not 
reconcile himself to dogmas, and that this was understand- 
able if viewed historically.) 

Dogmas would be all right. They are symbols. One could 
not do it better. But the theologians rationalize them. We 
only interpret it psychologically, this drama of the Heavens. 
Theology is one of the causes of soullessness. Science, be- 
cause it claims exclusiveness; the priest, when he subordi- 
nated himself to the intellect; art, which has all of a sudden 
lost its belief in beauty and looks only inwardly where there 
is nothing to be found but ruins, the mirror of our world : 
they all want to descend into the realm of the mothers 
without possessing Faust's key. In my own way I try to get 
hold of at key and to open closed doors with it. 



224 



ELIADE'S INTERVIEW 
FOR "COMBAT" 



*»»♦♦♦♦»♦» ♦ ♦♦♦*i m « m «* 



Mircea Eliade interviewed Jung at the 1952 Eranos Conference, 
near Ascona, in August. Jung had given his last Eranos lecture 
the previous year, after lecturing at nearly every conference 
beginning with the first, in 1933. Eliade's first Eranos lecture 
was given in 1950, and he continued as a frequent lecturer 
through the 1960's. Rumanian by birth, Eliade had studied in 
Calcutta and Bucharest, and at the beginning of the war he 
went to western Europe. Since 1958 he has been at the Uni- 
versity of Chicago as Sewell L. Avery Distinguished Service 
Professor of the history of religions. 

Eliade's article, "Rencontre avec Jung," was published in 
Combat: de la Resistance a la Revolution (Paris), Oct. 9, 1952. 
In the present version, Eliade's introductory remarks and in- 
terpolations have been much abridged, and some corrections 
and explanatory notes by Jung, which he sent to Eliade too late 
for inclusion in Combat, have been put in the text. Professor 
Eliade kindly supplied these additions. 



(At seventy-seven years of age, Professor C. G. Jung has 
lost nothing of his extraordinary vitality, his astonishing 
youthfulness. He has just published, one after the other, 
three new books: on the symbolism of Aion [Time], on 
synchronicity, and "Answer to Job," 1 which has already 
given rise to sensational reactions especially among theo- 
logians.) 

This book has always been on my mind, but I waited 
forty years to write it. I was terribly shocked when, still a 
child, I read the Book of Job for the first time. I discovered 

1 Antwort auf Hiob, published earlier in 1952, provoked much 
discussion. English tr., 1954; in CW 11 (1958). 



225 



1952 



that Yahweh is unjust, that he is even an evildoer. For he 
allows himself to be persuaded by the devil, he agrees to 
torture Job on the suggestion of Satan. In the omnipotence 
of Yahweh there is no consideration for human suffering. 
There are plenty of examples of Yahweh's injustice in cer- 
tain Jewish writings. But that is not the point; the point is 
the believer's reaction to the injustice. The question is: Is 
there in the midrashic literature any evidence for the exist- 
ence of critical reflection or of a reconciliation of this con- 
flict in the Deity? In one late text, Yahweh asks for the 
blessing of the high priest Ishmael, and Ishmael answers 
him: "May it be Thy will that Thy mercy may suppress Thy 
anger, and that Thy compassion may prevail over Thy other 
attributes. . . ." 2 The Almighty feels that a truly sanctified 
man is superior to himself. 

It may be that all this is a question of language. It may be 
that what you call the "injustice" and the "cruelty" of Yah- 
weh are only approximate and imperfect formulas for ex- 
pressing God's total transcendence. Yahweh is "He that is," 
so he is beyond good and evil. He is impossible to appre- 
hend, to understand, to formulate; consequently he is both 
merciful and unjust at once. This is a way of saying that 
no definition can circumscribe God, no attribute exhaust 
his potentialities. 

I speak as a psychologist, and above all I am speaking 
of the anthropomorphism of Yahweh and not of his theo- 
logical reality. As a psychologist, I say that Yahweh is con- 
tradictory and I also think this contradiction can be inter- 
preted psychologically. In order to test Job's faithfulness, 
Yahweh allows Satan an almost boundless license. Now 
this fact is not without consequences for humanity. Very 
important events impend in the future because of the role 
that Yahweh felt obliged to assign Satan. Faced with Yah- 
weh's cruelty, Job is silent. This silence is the most beautiful 

v-Zera'im I, Berakoth 7, in The Babylonian Talmud (tr. I. Ep- 
stein), p. 30. Cf. Aion (orig. 1951), CW 9 ii, par. no. 

226 



Eliade's Interview for "Combat" 

and the most noble answer that man can give to an all- 
powerful God. Job's silence is already an annunciation of 
Christ. In fact, God made himself man, became Christ, in 
order to redeem his injustice to Job. 

Yahweh did wrong but didn't recognize it. Perhaps Job 
knows this? At any rate, posterity has realized the agoniz- 
ing conflict caused by Yahweh's immorality. There is a 
story of a pious sage who could not bear to read the Eighty- 
ninth Psalm. 3 Job is certainly conscious of divine injustice 
and thus is more conscious than Yahweh. It is the subtle 
superiority of man's advance in moral consciouness vis-a-vis 
a less conscious God. That is the reason for the Incarnation. 

The great problem in psychology is the integration of 
opposites. One finds this everywhere and at every level. In 
Psychology and Alchemy (CW 12) I had occasion to 
interest myself in the integration of Satan. For, as long as 
Satan is not integrated, the world is not healed and man is 
not saved. But Satan represents evil, and how can evil be 
integrated? There is only one possibility: to assimilate it, 
that is to say, raise it to the level of consciousness. This is 
done by means of a very complicated symbolic process 
which is more or less identical with the psychological proc- 
ess of individuation. In alchemy this is called the conjunc- 
tion of the two principles. As a matter of fact, alchemy 
actually takes up and carries on the work of Christianity. 
In the alchemical view, Christianity has saved man but not 
nature. The alchemist's dream was to save the world in its 
totality: the philosophers' stone was conceived as the filius 
macrocosmi, which saves the world, whereas Christ was 
the filius microcosmi, the savior of man alone. 4 The ulti- 
mate aim of the alchemical opus is the apo\atastasis, cosmic 
salvation. 

For fifteen years I studied alchemy, 5 but I never spoke 

3 Cf. "Answer to Job," CW n, par. 685. 

4 Cf. "Paracelsus as a Spiritual Phenomenon," CW 13, pars. 162L 

5 Eliade had also been a student of alchemy prior to this interview. 
Cf. his Alchemia asiatica (Bucharest, 1935). 



227 



1952 



to anyone about it; I did not wish to influence my patients 
or my fellow workers by suggestion. But after fifteen years 
of research and observation, ineluctable conclusions were 
forced upon me. The alchemical operations were real, only 
this reality was not physical but psychological. Alchemy 
represents the projection of a drama both cosmic and 
spiritual in laboratory terms. The opus magnum had two 
aims: the rescue of the human soul and the salvation of the 
cosmos. What the alchemists called "matter" was in reality 
the [unconscious] self. The "soul of the world," the anima 
mundi, which was identified with the spiritus mercurius, 
was imprisoned in matter. It is for this reason that the al- 
chemists believed in the truth of "matter," because "matter" 
was actually their own psychic life. But it was a question 
of freeing this "matter," of saving it — in a word, of finding 
the philosophers' stone, the corpus glorificationis. 

This work is difficult and strewn with obstacles; the al- 
chemical opus is dangerous. Right at the beginning you 
meet the "dragon," the chthonic spirit, the "devil" or, as 
the alchemists called it, the "blackness," the nigredo, and 
this encounter produces suffering. "Matter" suffers right up 
to the final disappearance of the blackness; in psychological 
terms, the soul finds itself in the throes of melancholy, 
locked in a struggle with the "shadow." The mystery of the 
coniunctio, the central mystery of alchemy, aims precisely 
at the synthesis of opposites, the assimilation of the black- 
ness, the integration of the devil. For the "awakened" 
Christian this is a very serious psychic experience, for it is 
a confrontation with his own "shadow," with the blackness, 
the nigredo, which remains separate and can never be com- 
pletely integrated into the human personality. 

In interpreting the Christian's confrontation with his 
shadow in psychological terms, one discovers the hidden 
fear that the devil may be stronger, that Christ did not 
completely succeed in conquering him. Otherwise, why 
did one believe and still believes in the Antichrist? Why 



228 



Eliade's Interview for "Combat" 

did one wait and continue to wait for the coming of 
Antichrist? Because only after the reign of Antichrist and 
after the second coming of Christ will evil finally be con- 
quered in the world and in the human soul. On the psycho- 
logical level, all these symbols and beliefs are interdepend- 
ent: it is always a question of struggling with evil, with 
Satan, and conquering it, that is to say assimilating it, 
integrating it into consciousness. In the language of the 
alchemists, matter suffers until the nigredo disappears, 
when the "dawn" {aurora) will be announced by the "pea- 
cock's tail" {cauda pavonis) and a new day will break, the 
leukosis or albedo. But in this state of "whiteness" one does 
not live in the true sense of the word, it is a sort of abstract, 
ideal state. In order to make it come alive it must have 
"blood," it must have what the alchemists call the rubedo, 
the "redness" of life. Only the total experience of being can 
transform this ideal state of the albedo into a fully human 
mode of existence. Blood alone can reanimate a glorious 
state of consciousness in which the last trace of blackness 
is dissolved, in which the devil no longer has an autono- 
mous existence but rejoins the profound unity of the psyche. 
Then the opus magnum is finished: the human soul is com- 
pleted integrated. 

I am and remain a psychologist. I am not interested in 
anything that transcends the psychological content of 
human experience. I do not even ask myself whether such 
transcendence is possible, because in any case the trans- 
psychological is no longer the concern of the psychologist. 
But on the psychological level I have to do with religious 
experiences which have a structure and a symbolism that 
can be interpreted. For me, religious experience is real, is 
true. I have found that through such religious experiences 
the soul may be "saved," its integration hastened, and spir- 
itual equilibrium established. For me, as a psychologist, the 
state of grace exists: it is the perfect serenity of the soul, a 
creative equilibrium, the source of spiritual energy. Speak- 



229 



1952 



ing always as a psychologist, I affirm that the presence of 
God is manifest, in the profound experience of the psyche, 
as a coincidentia oppositorum, and the whole history of 
religion, all the theologies, bear witness to the fact that the 
coincidentia oppositorum is one of the commonest and 
most archaic formulas for expressing the reality of God. 
Religious experience is numinous, as Rudolf Otto calls it, 
and for me, as a psychologist, this experience differs from 
all others in the way it transcends the ordinary categories 
of space, time, and causality. Recently I have put a great 
deal of study into synchronicity 6 (briefly, the "rupture of 
time"), and I have established that it closely resembles 
numinous experiences where space, time, and causality are 
abolished. I bring no value judgments to bear on religious 
experience. I affirm that an inner conflict is always the 
source of profound and dangerous psychological crises, so 
dangerous that they can destroy a man's integrity. This 
inner conflict manifests itself psychologically in the same 
images and the same symbolism testified to by every re- 
ligion in the world and utilized also by the alchemists. 

That is why I became interested in religion, in Yahweh, 
in Satan, in Christ, in the Virgin. I understand very well 
that a believer sees something quite different in these 
images from what I, a psychologist, have the right to see. 
The faith of a believer is a great spiritual force, it is the 
guarantee of his psychic integrity. But I am a doctor and 
am interested in healing my fellow creatures. Faith and 
faith alone has no longer the power— alas! — to cure certain 
people. The modern world is desacralized, that is why it is 
in a crisis. Modern man must rediscover a deeper source of 
his own spiritual life. To do this, he is obliged to struggle 
with evil, to confront his shadow, to integrate the devil. 
There is no other choice. That is why Yahweh, Job, Satan, 

6 "Synchronicity: An Acausal Connecting Principle" (orig. 1952) ; 
in CW 8. 

230 



Eliade's Interview for "Combat" 

represent psychologically exemplary situations: they are 
like paradigms of the eternal human drama. 

(Jung discovered the collective unconscious — that is to say, 
everything that precedes the personal history of the human 
being — and he applied himself to deciphering its structures 
and its "dialectic" with a view to facilitating man's recon- 
ciliation with the unconscious part of his psychic life and 
to leading him towards the integration of his personality. 
Unlike Freud, Jung takes history into account: the arche- 
types, those structures of the collective unconscious, are 
loaded with history. It is no longer a question, as with 
Freud, of a "natural" spontaneity of each individual's un- 
conscious, but of an immense reservoir of historical mem- 
ories, a collective memory wherein is preserved, in essence, 
the history of all humanity. Jung believes that man should 
make greater use of this reservoir; his analytical method is 
concerned precisely with working out the means of using 
it.) 

The collective unconscious is more dangerous than dyna- 
mite, but there are ways of handling it without too many 
risks. Then, when a psychological crisis launches itself, you 
are in a better position than any other to solve it. You have 
dreams and waking dreams: take the trouble to observe 
them. One could almost say that every dream, in its own 
manner, carries a message. It not only tells you that some- 
thing is amiss in the depths of your being, it also brings 
you a solution for getting out of the crisis. For the collective 
unconscious which sends you these dreams already pos- 
sesses the solution: nothing has been lost from the whole 
immemorial experience of humanity, every imaginable 
situation and every solution seem to have been foreseen 
by the collective unconscious. You have only to observe 
carefully the message sent by the unconscious and then 
decode it. Analysis helps you to read these messages cor- 
rectly. 

231 



1952 



(It was by observing his own dreams — which he tried in 
vain to interpret in terms of Freudian psychoanalysis — that 
Jung was led to assume the existence of the collective 
unconscious. This happened in igoc). Two years later he 
began to be aware of the importance of his discovery. 7 Fi- 
nally, in 1914, still on the trac\ of a series of dreams and 
wa\ing dreams, he came to understand that the manifes- 
tations of the collective unconscious are, in part, independ- 
ent of the laws of time and causality. Since Professor Jung 
has \indly given me permission to spea\ of these dreams 
and waking dreams which have played a capital role in his 
scientific career, here is a summary 8 of them.) 

In October 1913, while travelling by train from Zurich 
to Schaffhausen, a strange incident befell me. Passing 
through a tunnel, I lost consciousness of time and place and 
was awakened an hour later only when the conductor an- 
nounced the arrival at Schaffhausen. During all this time 
I was the victim of an hallucination, a waking dream. I 
was looking at the map of Europe and saw how, country 
by country, beginning with France and Germany, all 
Europe became submerged under the sea. Shortly after- 
wards, the entire continent was under water with the ex- 
ception of Switzerland: Switzerland was like a high 
mountain that the waves could not submerge. I saw myself 
seated on the mountain. But then, on looking more closely 



7 This series of dreams began with the dream of the multistoried 
house, in 1909, when Jung and Freud analyzed each other's dreams 
on their trip to America. It is not referred to in The Freud/jung 
Letters but is recorded and commented on in Memories, Dreams, 
Reflections, pp. I58ff./i54f., and is mentioned in "Mind and Earth" 
(orig. 1927), CW 10, par. 54. It was then followed by the archetypal 
dreams recorded in Memories, Dreams, Reflections, pp. i63ff./i58f. 
and i7iff./i66ff., which led up to the "world catastrophe" dreams 
of 1913 and 1914. 

8 In the French original, the dreams in the following two para- 
graphs were reported in the third person. They contain some sig- 
nificant details which are not found in the first-person report of the 
same dreams in Memories, Dreams, Reflections, pp. I75f./i69f. 



232 



Eliade's Interview for "Combat" 

around me, I realized that the sea was of blood. Floating 
on the waves were corpses, roof tops, charred beams. 

Three months later, in December 1913, and again in the 
train which was taking me to Schaffhausen, the same waking 
dream was repeated, again on entering the tunnel. (I 
realized later that this was like an immersion in the col- 
lective unconscious.) As a psychiatrist I became worried, 
wondering if I was not on the way to "doing a schizo- 
phrenia," as we said in the language of those days. Finally, 
some months later, I had the following dream: I found 
myself on the Southern seas near Sumatra, in summer, ac- 
companied by a friend. But we learned from the news- 
papers that a terrible cold-wave had swept over Europe, 
such as had never been known to occur before. I decided 
to go to Batavia and board a ship in order to return to 
Europe. My friend told me he would take a sailing ship 
from Sumatra to Hadramaut and from there continue on 
his way through Arabia and Turkey. I arrived in Switzer- 
land. All around me I saw nothing but snow. Somewhere 
an enormous vine was growing; it had many bunches of 
grapes. I approached and began to pick the grapes and dis- 
tributed them among a throng of people who surrounded 
me but whom I could not see. 

Three times was this dream repeated, and finally I be- 
came extremely uneasy. I was just at this time preparing 
a lecture on schizophrenia to be delivered at a congress in 
Aberdeen, 9 and I kept saying to myself: "I'll be speaking 
of myself! Very likely I'll go mad after reading out this 
paper." The congress was to take place in July 1914 — ex- 
actly the period when I saw myself in my three dreams 
voyaging on the Southern seas. On July 31st, immediately 
after my lecture, I learned from the newspapers that war 
had broken out. Finally I understood. And when I disem- 
barked in Holland the next day, nobody was happier than 

9 Not on schizophrenia, but "On the Importance of the Uncon- 
scious in Psychopathology," CW 3. 



233 



1952 

I. Now I was sure that no schizophrenia was threatening 
me. I understood that my dreams and my visions came to 
me from the subsoil of collective unconscious. What re- 
mained for me to do now was to deepen and validate this 
discovery. And this is what I have been trying to do for 
forty years. 

(Jung was glad to receive a second explanation of this 
dream shortly afterwards. The newspapers were not long 
in telling of a German naval captain by the name of von 
Miic\e who in a sail-boat had crossed the Southern seas 
from Sumatra to Hadramaut, taken refuge in Arabia, and 
proceeded from there to Turkey} ) 

[Translated by Helen Temple and edited by R. F. C. Hull] 

10 Notice of Lieut.-Cdr. Helmuth von Miicke's voyage appeared 
in the Neue Ziircher Zeitung, August 4, 1915, and the route corre- 
sponds to that given here. Later that year, von Miicke published an 
account of his adventures in a book entitled Ayesha (name of his 
schooner) . 



2 34 



FROM CHARLES BAUDOUIN'S 
JOURNAL: 1954 



» MM * MM »»»*«* MMMM 



Zurich. Sunday, July 25, 1954 1 
There was a reception at Jung's house this afternoon to 
celebrate his seventy-ninth birthday tomorrow. He had 
invited about thirty people, who scattered around the 
garden in small groups, with the lake shining in the 
shadows below. Jung always goes about with a cane now, 
but he holds himself very straight and gives an impression 
of strength still intact. He sat apart to begin with at a little 
table with Rochedieu 2 and me, and showed us how much 
he appreciated having disciples in French-speaking lands. 
He conversed in this way with the two of us for quite a 
while, only rising from time to time to greet a new arrival 
with a friendly smile or a familiar pat on the shoulder. His 
wit is still lively, his memories rich and precise. When I told 
him about my current work on the symbols in St. John of 
the Cross he immediately sent his secretary to his library 
to find two old books for me, the Mundus Symbolicus of 
Picinello (Cologne, 1681), an enormous tome which I 
discovered suddenly under my arm, and the De Symbolica 
Aegyptiorum sapient a of Caussinus (Cologne, 1623), in 
which the hieroglyphs are explained by a great quantity of 
Greek texts. The talk turned upon a Carmelite friar who 
had asked Jung if Elij ah could be considered an archetype. 3 
This led Jung to go into the history of the Carmelites, and 

1 From L'Oeuvre de Jung (1963); see above, p. 76. This extract 
also appeared, in French, in Contact with Jung (1966). 

2 E. Rochedieu, analytical psychologist of Geneva. 

3 Pere Bruno de Jesus-Marie, O.C.D. Jung's long letter to him of 
Nov. 5, 1943, in CW 18, pars. I5i8ff., discusses Elijah as an arche- 
typal figure. 



235 



1954 

he learned that this Order, which counts on Elijah for sup- 
port, also claims the Holy Family among its members. 
Thus the Order had acquired a robe of the Virgin, and 
anyone who had worn it was delivered from purgatory 
(since the Virgin who visited purgatory every Saturday 
knew her own) . This brought great riches to the Order but 
also the hostility of the Jesuits. A lively quarrel went on 
until it was silenced by one of the Popes. Today the Order 
is returning to the charge discreetly with the notion of an 
archetype! 

Jung would not be Jung if he did not tell good stories. 
Here is another: one of his pupils, an extreme rationalist, 
was unable to conceive of the autonomy of the imagination 
and could not bring himself to use the method of "active 
imaginatjon." Jung advised him to pay attention to his 
hypnagogic images. And he did so. Thus he saw a rock 
wall on which a goat appeared. Suddenly the animal turned 
its head, and the subject was seized with panic. Leaping 
from his bed, he took refuge with his wife, and never again 
would he listen to a word about active imagination. With 
one of those thick and pungent condensations for which 
Jung has a knack, he added, "That was the only pupil of 
mine who became a Nazi." He left us then to join a larger 
group at the big table. 



[Translated by Jane A. Pratt] 



236 



HORNS BLOWING, 
BELLS RINGING 



»»♦»♦«♦+»*«»»+» 



An American writer on psychology, Claire Myers Owens, 
visited Jung on July 24, 1954, and wrote up the experience for 
a contest feature, "Tourists Abroad," in the Paris edition of the 
New Yor\ Herald Tribune. Her article was the winning entry 
for Aug. 12, 1954. 



Nervously, I pulled the bell at the home of the Grand Old 
Man of Switzerland. It was a large old-fashioned house 
directly on the beautiful Lake of Zurich, with the snow- 
topped Alps in the dim distance, and a vegetable garden in 
front. 

As the maid admitted me, I feared that my awe of his 
world-wide fame would make me tongue-tied. My fears 
were groundless. A large, tall man with very pink cheeks 
and an appearance that belied his 80 years entered and 
greeted me. We sat in his library overlooking the flower 
garden and the blue lake with its many boats. He was 
friendly, jovial, startlingly frank. 

For an hour and a half, we discussed his analytical psy- 
chology, Freud, his early struggles, religion and the role of 
evil, politics and the psychological origin of the "-isms," the 
maternal woman and the grande amoureuse, his collected 
works now being published in the United States in 18 vol- 
umes, "self-realization," the cause and cure of neuroses, and 
how to find the meaning of life. 

I said I had a chapter on him in the book 1 1 was writing— 
but how could I endure it if the book were not accepted? 

1 Awakening to the Good: Psychological or Religious? An Auto- 
biographical Inquiry (Boston, 1958), pp. 207-220. 

237 



1954 

He said, write the truth, and expect to be misunderstood, 
and take the consequences. That was what he had been 
doing all his life. People feared truth. 

Suddenly, we heard horns blowing, bells ringing. The 
maid rushed up in great excitement. He said: "Neinl Neinl" 
Then his daughter called up from the garden below. "They" 
wanted to see him. He murmured: "Nonsense!" She begged 
him to come out on the balcony. 

He stepped out. So did I. A large lake steamer had 
stopped. Its two or three hundred passengers were waving 
wildly. Finally, he waved back — once. 

It was the International Congress of Psychotherapists, 2 
and their ship had stopped in order that they might have a 
glimpse of the greatest of all psychotherapists — Prof. Carl 
G.Jung., 

2 The International Congress for Psychotherapy assembled at 
Zurich from July 20 to 24, 1954, and on the last day, the feature 
was a cruise by chartered boat along the lake of Zurich. The ex- 
cursion was the idea of the president of the Congress, Dr. Medard 
Boss, who also arranged for horns to be sounded at 3:30 p.m., when 
the boat paused in the lake off Jung's house, at Kusnacht. The Con- 
gress honored Jung and two others — the existential analyst Ludwig 
Binswanger and the psychoanalyst Oskar Pfister — with honorary 
membership. 



238 



THE WORLD OF JAMES JOYCE 



♦ »♦♦♦♦»!• »»*» m »♦♦»♦♦♦♦♦ 



The English writer Patricia Hutchins set out to explore James 
Joyce's background in Ireland and in the Continental cities 
where he lived. In Zurich, she interviewed Jung at his house 
in Kusnacht, on a date not readily evident, but probably in late 
1954. Miss Hutchins described her encounter with Jung in her 
book fames Joyce's World (London, 1957), pp. 181-84. The 
passage as given here is slightly abridged, to omit a digression 
on other literary matters. 



We could only arrange a meeting in the evening. Thus I 
went out to the village of Kusnacht and made my way 
down a long, villa-edged road. Going through white gates, 
at the end of a short avenue of trees I could see a lit doorway 
in the dark tower-shape of a house. Soon a girl took me to a 
small ante-room on the first floor. Indian dolls and toys 
were in glass presses and among books and papers on the 
table was a recent issue of Punch. Downstairs someone 
whistled and a deep clock struck six across the atmosphere 
of quiet and good order there. 

As I was ushered into a large library, over parquet and 
Indian carpets, there was only a standard lamp in a corner 
by the window so that furniture and pictures were indis- 
tinguishable. Dr. Jung rose and shook hands, a bulky figure 
with a pleasant voice, and I sat down on a comfortable seat 
opposite him. By some effect of the light behind his chair, 
or the angle of his glasses which enlarged the pupils, a 
curious distortion gave his look the full-powered concen- 
tration of a child or an animal. It was so distracting that I 
shifted my position and it became more usual again. 

We talked first of all of my study of Joyce's background, 
and Dr. Jung's brief glimpse of Ireland from a liner stop- 



239 



1954 

ping at Cobh on the way back from America. I mentioned 
Joyce's years in Zurich during the First World War and 
how Mrs. Rockefeller McCormick 1 had helped Joyce finan- 
cially for a time and then abruptly ceased to do so. 

"It has been suggested," I said, "that you were in some 
way involved, and that perhaps Joyce had offended the lady 
by refusing to be analyzed?" 

"Well, now you tell me the story I may well have been, in 
an indirect way." Dr. Jung explained that Joyce's name was 
then unknown to him and he had not met the writer per- 
sonally until much later, when Joyce, whose daughter was 
then in a sanatorium, asked for a consultation. Yet he recol- 
lected that before 1920 Mrs. McCormick mentioned she was 
supporting both an author and another artist at that time. 
She was* much troubled by the fact that the latter did not 
work. Dr. Jung hesitated to tell her to cease these payments, 
but when the artist himself became his patient and told him 
of a recurrent dream in which he was bleeding to death, he 
advised Mrs. McCormick to end an intolerable situation, 
with most satisfactory results. Although Dr. Jung was not 
informed, she may well have decided to have done with 
Joyce and the manuscript of Ulysses as well. 

"In the thirties I was asked to write an introduction to the 
German edition of Ulysses," 2, he told me, "but as such it was 
not a success. Later I published it in one of my books. My 
interest was not literary but professional. . . . The book was 
a most valuable document from my point of view; I ex- 
pressed this, as you know." 

"You said that the experiences related were part of 'the 

1 Edith Rockefeller McCormick (1 872-1932), daughter of John D. 
Rockefeller, was a patient of Jung, a Jungian analyst during her long 
residence in Zurich, and patron of musicians and writers. For a 
detailed account of her relationship with Joyce, see Richard Ellmann, 
James Joyce (1959), PP- 435> 480-83- 

2 Jung's essay, " 'Ulysses' : A Monologue" (orig. 1932), is in CW 
15, with an appendix by the Editors giving three separate explana- 
tions of its genesis. 



240 



The World of James Joyce 

cold shadow-side of existence' 3 — I do not think that Joyce 
cared about that." 

"The peculiar mixture and the nature of the material as 
presented is the same as in cases of schizophrenia, but dealt 
with by an artist. The same things that you find in the 
madhouse, oh yes, definitely, but with a plan. I wrote and 
apologized to the publisher for not being able to provide 
what he needed for the edition." 



When Joyce approached the psychologist professionally in 
1934, 4 Jung had put the article and his apology for it out of 
his mind, but Joyce would hardly have done so. 

"Certainly he seemed very restrained," Dr. Jung said 
when I mentioned this. "Yes, now I remember it, during 
the hour or so while we talked of his daughter, it was 
impossible not to feel his resistances. The interview was 
correspondingly uneventful and futile. His daughter, on the 
contrary, was far more lively. She was very attractive, 
charming — a good mind. And her writing, what she did 
for me, had in it the same elements as her father's. She was 
the same spirit, oh they cared for each other very much. Yet 
unfortunately it was too late to help her." 

The neurotic, like the child, is often very absorbent of the 
atmosphere created by those around him, especially when it 
in some way involves himself. A remark disparaging the 
Doctor — "How could he know what is going on in my 
pretty little head" — purported to have been made by Lucia, 
suggests that no real rapport was possible between them. 

"Finnegans Waf^e?" Dr. .Jung, .replied to my query. "I 
read parts of it in periodicals but it was like getting lost in 
a wood. Oh no, I could not manage it. Ulysses yes, but still 

3 Ibid., par. 172: "the cold shadow-side of life." 

4 See Ellmann, pp. 688-93, f° r an account of Jung's psychiatric 
treatment of Lucia Joyce, based chiefly on an interview he had 
with Jung in 1953. 



241 



1954 

I do not understand why so many people read it, so many 
editions have been published." 5 

"Well, surely they needed certain things to be said. In the 
twenties people wanted to read in print what they could not 
express themselves, about life, sex. . . . That generation was 
freeing itself from so much; we hardly understand its situa- 
tion now. Then it seems to me that many problems inherent 
in Joyce's work are also those of the present-day world, in 
particular the adjustment of personal relations to science, 
the question of overpopulation. . . ." 

"Yes, yes, that is the great problem, all over the world. I 
have been in India and seen the under-nourished people, the 
thousands, thousands born there. There is the important 
question of food, of food production. How are they all to 
be fed?" ' 

Dr. Jung enlarged on this theme in a flow of sentences, 
one upon another, and with that quick, unsought illustra- 
tion which characterizes his prose. As he stood up to go I 
was aware of his fresh, full face, and that there was a 
particular attractiveness about the man by his very largeness 
and health of mind. 

"I am glad," he concluded, "that I do not have to face the 
difficulties of the future. I shall be eighty in July 1955, you 
know. They are so very great indeed." 

"Well, I think you have done your share in helping other 
people — enough for one lifetime. We'll have to try and find 
a way out anyway." 

"Yes, yes." As I got my coat from the ante-room I knew 
that by long habit he was watching, assessing me. With 
more care than usual, as if to make a good impression, I 
turned off the light and shut the door. 

"Is this an old house?" I asked, to fill the gap before 
saying good-bye. 

5 For Jung's rather complimentary letter to Joyce about Ulysses, 
Sept. 27, 1932, see CW 15, p. 133, and Letters, vol. 1. 



242 



The World of James Joyce 

"No, but built after an ancient style." He smiled. "I am, 
you know, a conservative." 6 

6 Patricia Hutchins sent Jung a draft of her account, which he 
returned, corrected, with a letter on June 29, 1955; see Letters, 
vol. 2. Jung said he could not recall writing to Joyce in 1932, and 
he added an interesting paragraph on the relationship of Joyce and 
his daughter as a classic example of the anima theory. 



2 43 



MEN, WOMEN, AND GOD 



H l tMHtMMU II I I t 



The popular English journalist Frederick Sands, then foreign 
correspondent for the London Daily Mail, interviewed Jung at 
Kiisnacht and published the results as five successive articles in 
the Daily Mail, April 25-29, 1955. Jung had read and approved 
the text of the interview. Sands's articles were headed with 
provocative sentences drawn from Jung's words — "To Call 
Women the Weaker Sex is Sheer Nonsense," "You Must 
Quarrel to Be Happy," etc. On September 10, 1961, three 
months after Jung's death, the material of the first two articles 
was rearranged and published under the title "The Trouble 
with Women" in the Sunday magazine sections of several 
American papers — the Washington Post, the New York Journal, 
the American Weekly, and others. Sands wrote: "It was the 
last interview the erect, agile six-footer would ever give — and 
in many respects his most remarkable. Shortly thereafter . . . 
he died at 85." 

The 1955 text is given here, but the interviewer's remarks 
are omitted and Jung's are slightly abridged. 



A jnan's foremost interest should be his work. But a woman 
— man « her work and her business. Yes, I know it sounds 
like, a convenient philosophy of the selfish male when I say 
that. But marriage means a home. And home is like a nest- 
not enough room for both birds at once. One sits inside, the 
other jjerches on the edge and looks about and attends to 
all outside business. 

The vanity of men is in most cases a result of their pro- 
fessional .activities. The extent it reaches is sometimes almost 
gioiescpe. .MgsL .men art afraid of something and are full 
of j^re^udices— which are. not .there in the case of most 
women. Men are inclined to resent any interference with 
their way of thinking and their hidebound convictions. 



244 



Men, Women, and God 



This is especially the case with their manly prestige, which 
they feel they have to guard even when it is not threatened. 
They may be afraid that they are ill — or of being told that 
they are ill; they may have financial or some other sup- 
pressed worries. But more often than not they are suffering 
merely from — fear. Men almost invariably are not honest, 
either with themselves or with me. 

So many women, are just crying out for a better under- 
standing with their Jhusbands^ Their men are incapable of 
grasping this — which is not strange since men do not under- 
stand women anyway. But women are unable to realize that 
in business their husbands are not the monarchs of all they 
survey. As often as not they are underdogs who have to put 
up with a great deal — a bullying boss, for instance. And the 
best remedy for that is a woman's understanding. After a 
day at business in such uncongenial circumstances — having 
to be pleasant to people he doesn't like — a man comes home 
in the evening wanting to bang someone over the head. 
Instead he is expected to continue the torture by being very 
nice to his wife. 

A woman, of course, has also had her day's worries with 
the children and the household. She would like to talk 
about them. She is, in fact, just in the mood for a chat. But 
her husband is tired and taciturn. The average woman 
cannot visualize a man's problems. His secretary under- 
stands her boss better than his wife does. 

I have never said so much to anyone in an interview 
before. Probably I shall find myself in trouble — especially 
with the women— for some of the things I have said. 



Women are much tougher than men underneath. To call 
women the weaker, sex is sheer nonsense. Beware those 
angel-faced types who always appear weak and helpless and 
talk in a high-pitched voice. They are the toughest of them 
all Be cautious and prepared for anything with quiet 



245 



1955 

women. The old proverb says "Still waters run deep"— and 
that's particularly so in the case of women. I know it sounds 
malicious, but quiet women usually have some surprises in 
store for us once we start delving beneath the surface. 

Talkative women should not be taken at theirjace value. 
Often their talk is only a blind. Many people talk too much 
because they do not want to discuss essential things. Women 
who talk most think least. 

Wome n w ill call me cynical and dislike me for being so 
frank. It is women's instinct to capture and hold one man. 
It is man's instinct to get as many women as possible. Man 
tries_notto.be caught, at least for as long as he can readily 
elude his pursuer. That is the instinct of the fast-running 
animal: escape by flight. 

A woman's best prey is the man that no other woman 
has been able to catch. To catch a man that any woman 
could have caught — that makes the prize relatively value- 
less. But once she gets her man, woman holds him in a 
strong grip and makes sure that no other women are in the 
offing. That is natural and necessary, for it is man's nature 
to alight here and there and then take flight again — if he 
can. 

I have terrible trouble making people see what I mean! 
Every psychological. statement is also true when it is turned 
round to mean the opposite. That is complicated— but that 
is nature. 

There are, for instance, any number of quite virile men 
who have a certain idea of the woman they want; they 
make a beeline for that woman and are never troubled by 
any other women. Such men generally get a wife they have 
to watch, for they are not the kind to stay inside the nest. 
And if they are not careful they may find the female, 
perched outside, flying off on occasional sorties of her own. 



A wo man js at her best only when she loves a man. Per- 
sonal relationship is her basic need, and when that^Ealters 

246 



Men, Women, and God 



she grows dissatisfied and argumentative in a way that 
often leads to divorce. But this certainly doesn't mean that 
men and women should remain placid. On the contrary, 
some tension must prevail in their daily lives, for otherwise 
there cannot be the ideal relationship in sex — and this is a 
"must" between husband and wife. 

I once had an "ideal-looking couple" who came to con- 
sult me. Something had gone wrong. When I looked at 
them I wondered what could have brought them to me. 
They appeared perfectly suited to one another in every 
way and, as I soon discovered, they were blessed with all 
the material things life could offer. But eventually I found 
that the real trouble was that they were too well suited. 
This prevented any tension existing in their intimate; rela- 
tions. They coincided so much that nothing happened— a 
situation as awkward as the opposite extreme of total 
incompatibility. 

Look at it in terms of everyday life. Is a conversation 
likejy to be in any way interesting when you know before- 
hand that your partner will agree with everything you say? 
_ What is the use of discussing a conviction already shared 
and accepted as a matter of course? The incentive to dis- 
cussion dies — there is no potential. When you know that 
your opinion agrees with your partner's, there is no point in 
mentioning it at all. So what does there remain to talk 
about? 

It is far .more-interesting and productive lo discuss some- 
thing about which different views are held. I do not par- 
ticularly enjoy a. discussion in which everybody agrees with 
me — there is no obstacle to overcome, no tension, no pro- 
ductive flow. Difference of opinion can be fruitful; so can 
quarrelslT!h£y..are Lobstacles in the way-of getting together, 
and one has JajnakeaneffoxtlQ surmount them. Mentally, 
morally, L .^hv_sicallxr_ia _alJ -.£hei«..way.s_Nature. has created 
an extreme ...djjjej_yice : between man and woman, so that he 
finds his opposite in her and she in hitruThat creates ten- 
sion. 



247 



1955 

If man and woman were the same, that would be stale- 
mate. The earth would be sterile. Where the land is flat 
there is no flow of water; it has nowhere to go; it stagnates. 
In order to produce energy you must have opposites — an 
above and a below. There must be a difference in level, and 
the greater it is the swifter and more forcefully does the 
water flow. 

To me a particularly beautiful woman is a source of 
terror. A beautiful woman is as a rule a terrible disappoint- 
ment; you cannot have your cake and eat it. 

Jnmen, beauty and brain are seldom found together. The 
brain of a highly attractive man of handsome .physique 
becomes merely the appendage of his wonderful torso. 



At my country retreat I do as I please. I write, I paint — 
but I spend most of the time just drifting along with my 
thoughts. 

Itseems to. me we have reached the limit of our evolution 
— the point from which we can advance no further. Man 
started from an unconscious state and- has eyer_striyen for 
greater consciousness. The development of consciousness is 
the burden, the suffering, and the blessing of mankind. 
Each new discovery leads to greater consciousness, and the 
path along which we are going is merely an extension of it. 
This inevitably calls for greater responsibility and enforces 
a great change in ourselves. We must draw conclusions from 
_what we know and discover, and not take everything for 
granted. 

Man has come to be man's worst enemy. It is a clash 
between man and God, in which man's Luciferan genius 
has produced in the H-bomb the power to destroy more 
effectively than any ancient god could. We must begin to 
learn about man until every Jekyll can see his Hyde. 

The strains and stresses of twentieth-century living have 
so affected the modern mind that in many countries chil- 

248 



Men, Women, and God 

dren are no longer able to concentrate. Here in Zurich the 
schoolteachers of the. upper part of the lake asked me why 
it is that they are no longer able to carry out the full cur- 
riculum/The children, they said, seemed unable to concen- 
trate. I told them that the fault lay with the cinema, the 
radio, television, the continual swish of motor-cars and the 
drone of planes overhead. For these are all distractions. 

The same distractions affect adults as well. You cannot 
go into a hotel or a restaurant and carry on an intelligent 
conversation over a meal or a cup of tea because your words 
are drowned by music. Some time ago I was in a New 
York hotel and wanted to have a discussion with an Ameri- 
can professor. It was impossible — we gave it up. I have 
nothing against music at the proper time and place, but 
these days one can't get away from it. I have just returned 
from the Ticino, in Italian Switzerland, where they love 
music. But when they turned on the radio in the restaurant 
I got so exasperated that I pulled out the plug. 

Jazz and all that sort of stuff is silly and stultifying. But 
it is even worse when they play classics in such a place. 
Bach, for instance. Bach talks to God. I am gripped by 
Bach. But I could slay a man who plays Bach in banal 
surroundings. 

Cocktails and all they stand for are just as bad. They 
simply kill all sensible conversation. Why, most of the 
people who go in for cocktail drinking are only able to keep 
up a d ecen t conversation after the third. Worst of all is 
television. 



Without knowing it man is always concerned with God. 
What some people call instinct or intuition is nothing other 
than God. God is that voice inside us which tells us what to 
do and what not to do. In other words, our conscience. 

In this dark atomic age of ours, with its lurking fear, man 
is seeking guidance. Consciously or unconsciously he is 



249 



1955 

once more groping for God. I make my patients understand 
that all the things which happen to them against their will 
are a superior force. They can call it God or devil, and that 
doesn't matter to me, as. long as they realize that it is a 
superior force. God js nothing more than that superior force 
in our life. You can experience God every day. 

There are for instance, the "strange recurrences" that 
happen in the lives of certain individuals. Many patients 
come to see me about them. They want, quite naturally, to 
know why these things recur, whether the cause lies in 
themselves, and whether there is anything they can do to 
end it. These recurrences may be so conspicuous that — 
especially if they are unpleasant— the person concerned may 
begin to feel himself the victim of some sinister form of 
persecution. We must make a clear difference between this 
and the persecution mania of an unhinged mind. The 
recurrences are often quite genuine and not merely im- 
agined. 

Once I was walking in the garden of my house with a 
lady who had consulted me. She had told me, among other 
things, that whenever she was in the country she was at- 
tacked by birds— black birds. Hardly had we got away from 
the house than several crows approached and swooped 
down on us, fluttering about and cawing angrily. They left 
me alone, but kept on flying at my patient. One of them 
even nipped her on the back of the neck before I drove 
them off. 

Another strange case : I treated three daughters and their 
mother. The three young women kept on having terrible 
dreams about the elder lady, who was a model mother. 
They dreamt of her as a wild animal. Years later she became 
prone to fits of melancholia in which she acted like a wild 
beast. 1 

The fact is that what happens to a person is characteristic 

1 Cf. The Development of Personality, CW 17, par. 107. 



250 



Men, Women, and God 

of him. Jle_iepresents a pattern and all the pieces fit. One 
by one, as his life proceeds, they fall into place according to 
somcpredestiried design. 

All that I have learned has led me step by step to an 
unshakable conviction of the existence of God.(I only be- 
lieve in what I know .__ And that eliminates believing. There- 
fore I do not take His existence on belief — I know that He 
exists. I 



251 



THE STEPHEN BLACK 
INTERVIEWS 



»♦+♦«»♦+»♦«»«+♦ 



Stephen Black interviewed Jung in July 1955, in order to record 
material for broadcast in connection with Jung's 80th birthday, 
26 July. Besides a radio interview (no. 3, below), Black con- 
ducted an interview for the BBC television feature "Panorama," 
of which a segment of about six minutes (no. 2, below) was 
broadcast. The conversation took place on the terrace of Jung's 
house at Kiisnacht; the sounds of a motorboat on the lake and 
music at the beach resort next door are sometimes audible. 
Emma Jung sat beside her husband— one sees her in the film — 
but did not take part in the interview. 

Subsequently, Stephen Black left broadcasting, became a 
physician, and emigrated to New Zealand. 



1 

Professor Jung, could you tell me how it came about that 
psychological medicine came to be divided so sharply in the 
first half of this century into Freudian and Adlerian and 
Jungian philosophies? 

Well, that is so. Always in the beginning of a new science, 
or when a new problem is tackled in science, there are 
necessarily many different aspects, particularly in a science 
like psychology, and particularly so when an absolutely new 
factor has been brought into the discussion. 

Which was that? 

In this case, it was the unconscious — the concept of the 
unconscious. It has been a philosophical concept before — in 
the philosophy of Carl Gustav Carus and then his follower 



252 



The Stephen Blac\ Interviews 

Eduard von Hartmann. But it was a mere speculative con- 
cept. The unconscious was a kind of philosophical concept 
at first, but through the discoveries by Freud it became a 
practical medical concept, because he discovered these mech- 
anisms or connections. ... He made of it a medical science. 
This is empirical. 

An empirical medical science. 

That was an entirely new proposition. And naturally 
quite a number of opinions are possible in the beginning, 
where one is insufficiently acquainted with the phenomena. 
It needed many experiments and experiences until one could 
establish a general terminology, for instance, or even a 
doctrine. Now, I never got as far as to produce a general 
doctrine, because I always felt we don't know enough. But 
Freud started the theory very early and so did Adler, be- 
cause that can be explained by the human need for certainty. 
You feel completely lost in such an enormous field as psy- 
chology represents. And there you must have something to 
cling to, some guidance as it were, and that is probably the 
reason why this kind of psychology set out with almost 
ready-made theories. At least, the theories were conceived in 
a moment when one didn't know enough about the role of 
the psychology of the unconscious. That is my private view, 
and so I've refrained from forming theories. 

When you first met Freud — when was that, 1906? 
That was 1907. 

Will you describe that meeting to me? 

Oh, well, I just made a visit to him in Vienna and then 
we talked for thirteen hours without interruption. 

Thirteen hours without interruption? 

Thirteen hours without interruption! We didn't realize 
that we were almost dead at the end of it, but it was tre- 
mendously interesting. 



253 



1955 

Did you argue? 

Yes, I did, to a certain extent. Of course, seeing him for 
the first time I had to get my bearings first. I had naturally 
also to listen to what he had to say. And I was then a very 
young man still, and he was the old man and had great 
experience and he was of course way ahead of me and so I 
settled down to learn something first. 

And then in 1912 you published "The Psychology of the 
Unconscious." 

Well, by 1 91 2 I had acquired a lot of my own experience 
and I had learned a great deal from Freud and then I saw 
certain things in a different light. 

So you dissociated yourself from Freud. 

Yes, because I couldn't share his opinions of his convic- 
tions anymore with reference to certain things. I mean in 
certain points I have no argument against him, but in other 
respects I disagree with him. 

What was it you disagreed most over at that time? 

Well, that was chiefly the interpretation of psychological 
facts. You know, he was on the standpoint of scientific 
materialism, which I consider as a prejudice, a sort of meta- 
physical presupposition, which I exclude. 

What in your view will be the final outcome of this kind of 
scientific quarrel between the various schools of medical 
psychology? 

For the time being it is certainly a sort of quarrel, but in 
the course of time it will be as it always has been in the 
history of science. You will see that certain points will be 
taken from Freud's ideas, others from Adler's ideas, and 
something of my ideas. There is no question of victory of 
one idea, of one way of looking at things. Such victories are 
only obtained where it is a matter of pretension, of convic- 
tions, for instance, philosophical or religious convictions. In 



254 



The Stephen Black Interviews 

science there is nothing of the kind, there is merely the 
truth as one can see it. 

Than\ you. Professor Jung, there's a body of opinion in the 
world today that all is not well with the technique of 
psychoanalysis, that it takes too long, it uses up too many 
medical man-hours, it costs too much money. Have you felt 
that about your technique of analytical psychology? 

That is perfectly true. It takes time, it costs money, it 
takes the right people and there are too few. But that is 
foreseen. That is in the nature of the thing. Man's soul is a 
complicated thing and it takes sometimes half a lifetime to 
get somewhere in one's psychological development. You 
know it is by no means always a matter of psychotherapy or 
treatment of neuroses. Psychology has also the aspect of a 
pedagogical method in the widest sense of the word. It is 
something — 

A system of education. 

It is an education. It is something like antique philosophy. 
And not what we understand by a technique. It is some- 
thing that touches upon the whole of man and which chal- 
lenges also the whole of man — in the patient or whatever 
the receiving party is as well as in the doctor. 



But it's a therapeutic process also. 

Yes, you know, this procedure has many stages or levels. 
If you take an ordinary case of neurosis, it may only go as 
far as healing the symptoms or giving the patient such an 
attitude that he can deal with his neurosis. Sometimes it 
takes him a week, sometimes a few days, sometimes it is 
just one consultation in which I clean up a case. It is of 
course a question of knowing where, or what — it needs a 
good deal of experience. But other cases take very long, and 
you couldn't send them away because they wouldn't go. 



255 



1955 

They want to know more, to make the whole process of de- 
velopment, which goes from stage to stage, a widening out 
of the mental horizon. You cannot imagine how one-sided 
people are nowadays. And so it needs no end of work to 
get people rounded out, or mentally more developed, more 
conscious. And they are so keen on it that for nothing in 
the world would they quit. And they are not shy of spend- 
ing money on it. 

Professor Jung, how does this compare with religion, with 
religious practice? 

I rather would prefer to say, how does it compare with 
antique philosophy. You see, our religions are known as 
confessions. One confesses a certain creed. Now, of course, 
this has nothing to do with a creed. It has only to do with 
the natural individuation process, namely, the process that 
sets in with birth, as it were. As each plant, each tree grows 
from a seed and becomes in the end, say, an oak tree, so man 
becomes what he is meant to be. At least, he ought to get 
there. But most get stuck by unfavorable external conditions, 
by all sorts of hindrances or pathological distortions, wrong 
education— no end of reasons why one shouldn't get there 
where one belongs. 

Do more people get stuc\ today than fifty years ago when 
you started? 

There are no statistics, and I wouldn't have an opinion 
about it. But I only know that there is an uncanny amount 
of people that get stuck unnecessarily. They could get 
much further if they had heard the proper things or if they 
had spent the necessary time on themselves. But this is not 
popular, you know, to spend time on oneself, because our 
point of view is entirely extraverted. 

One last question. You have defined these personality types 
of extravert and introvert. Which are you? 

Oh well. [Laughs.] Everybody would call me an intro- 
vert. 

256 



The Stephen Blac\ Interviews 

You're an introvert. And what was Freud? 

Now, that is a very difficult question. You know, Freud 
is — and he doesn't conceal it — he's a neurotic type. And 
there it is very difficult to make out what the real type is. 
For a long time you have to observe which mental contents 
are conscious and which are unconscious. And then only 
you can say this must be the original type. I will say Freud's 
point of view is an extraverted point of view. But as to his 
personal type I wouldn't speculate. 

AndAdler? 
He is equally introverted. 

He extended your definition of the complex to the inferior- 
ity complex. What are your views on this all important 
inferiority complex? 

Well, that is a thing that surely plays a very great role, 
almost just as great as the sex complex. You see, the sex com- 
plex belongs to a hedonistic type of man who thinks in 
terms of his pleasure and displeasure, while there is another 
class of man, chiefly the man who has not arrived, who 
thinks in terms of power and defeat, and to him it is far 
more important to win out somewhere than his whole sex 
problem. 

What should we thin\ in terms of, in your view? 

Obviously, life has the two aspects, namely, self preserva- 
tion and the preservation of species. There you have the 
two things. Nobody in his senses dismisses the one or the 
other thing. We always have both aspects, because we are 
meant to be balanced. 



During his visit to Kusnacht, Stephen Black also conducted an 
interview for BBC radio. According to the BBC transcript, it 
was recorded on July 29, 1955, and broadcast as part of a 



257 



1955 

series, "Personal Call," on October 3. The text was printed as 
an appendix to E. A. Bennet's book C. G. Jung (London, 
1961), and Dr. Bennet dated it July 24. He had been given the 
copyright in the transcript by the BBC and kindly permitted 
its publication here. 



"Vocatus atque non vocatus deus aderit" is a Latin transla- 
tion of the Gree\ oracle, and, translated into English, it 
might read, "Invoked or not invoked the god will be 
present" and in many ways this expresses the philosophy of 
Carl Jung. I am sitting now in a room in his house at 
Kiisnacht, near Zurich, in Switzerland. And as I came in 
through the front door, I read this Latin translation of the 
Gree\, carved in stone over the door. For this house was 
built by 'Professor Jung. How many years ago, Professor 
Jung? 
Oh, almost fifty years ago. 

Why did you choose to put this over your front door? 

Because I wanted to express the fact that I always feel 
unsafe, as if I'm in the presence of superior possibilities. 

Professor Jung is sitting opposite to me now. He is a large 
man, a tall man, and this summer reached his eightieth 
birthday. He has white hair, a very powerful face, with a 
small white mustache and deep brown eyes. He reminds 
me, with all respect, Professor Jung, of a typical peasant of 
Switzerland. What do you feel about that, Professor Jung? 
Well, I think you are not just beside the mark. That is 
what I often have been called. 

And yet Professor Jung is a man whose reputation far 
transcends the frontiers of this little country. It's a reputa- 
tion which isn't only European; it is world-wide and has 
made itself felt considerably in the Far East. Professor Jung, 
how did you, as a doctor, become interested in psychological 
medicine? 

258 



The Stephen Blac\ Interviews 

Well, when I was a student of medicine I already then 
became interested in the psychological aspect — chiefly of 
mental diseases. I studied, besides my medical work, also 
philosophy — chiefly Kant, Schopenhauer and others. I found 
it very difficult in those days of scientific materialism to find 
a middle line between natural science or medicine and my 
philosophical interests. And in the last of my medical 
studies, just before my final exam, I discovered the short 
introduction that Krafft-Ebing had written to his textbook 
of psychiatry, and suddenly I understood the connection 
between psychology or philosophy and medical science. 

This was due to Krafft-Ebing's introduction to his textbook? 
Yes; and it caused me tremendous emotion then. I was 
quite overwhelmed by a sudden sort of intuitive under- 
standing. I wouldn't have been able to formulate it clearly 
then, but I felt I had touched a focus. And then on the spot 
I made up my mind to become a psychiatrist, because there 
was a chance to unite my philosophical interests with nat- 
ural science and medical science; that was my chief interest 
from then on. 

Would you say that your sudden intuitive interest in some- 
thing li\e that, your intuitive understanding, had to some 
extent been explained by your wor\ during all the years 
since? 

Oh, yes; absolutely. But, as you know, such an intuitive 
moment contains the whole thing in nucleo. It is not clearly 
formulated; it's an indescribable totality; but this moment 
had been the real origin of my career as a medical psycho- 
logical scientist. 

So it was in fact Krafft-Ebing and not Freud that started 
you off. 
Oh, yes, I became acquainted with Freud much later on. 

And when did you meet Freud? 
That was only in 1907. I had some correspondence with 



259 



1955 

him before that date, but I met him only in 1907 after I 
had written my book on The Psychology of Dementia 
Praecox. 1 

That was your first book? 

That wasn't really my first book. The book on dementia 
praecox came after my doctor's thesis in 1904. 2 And then 
my subsequent studies on the association experiment 3 paved 
the way to Freud, because I saw that the behavior of the 
complex provided the experimental basis for Freud's ideas on 
repression. And that was the reason and the possibility of 
our relationship. 

Would you like to describe to me that meeting? 

Well, I went to Vienna and paid a visit to him, and our 
first meeting lasted thirteen hours. 

Thirteen hours? 

For thirteen uninterrupted hours we talked and talked 
and talked. It was a tour d'horizon, in which I tried to make 
out Freud's peculiar mentality. He was a pretty strange 
phenomenon to me then, as he was to everybody in those 
days, and then I saw very clearly what his point of view 
was, and 1 also caught some glimpses already where 1 
wouldn't join in. 

In what way was Freud a peculiar personality? 

Well, that's difficult to say, you know. He was a very 
impressive man and obviously a genius. Yet you must know 
the peculiar atmosphere of Vienna in those days: it was the 
last days of the old Empire, and Vienna was always spirit- 
ually and in every way a place of a very specific character. 
And particularly the Jewish intelligentsia was an impressive 
and peculiar phenomenon— particularly to us Swiss, you 

1 In CW 3. 

2 "On the Psychology and Pathology of So-called Occult Phe- 
nomena," CW 1. 

3 In CW 2. 



260 



The Stephen Black Interviews 

know. We were, of course, very different and it took me 
quite a while until I got it. 

Would you say, then, that the ideas and the philosophy 
which you have expressed have in their root something 
peculiarly Swiss? 

Presumably. You know, our political neutrality has much 
to do with it. We were always surrounded by the great 
powers — those four powers, Germany, Austria, Italy, and 
France — and we had to defend our independence, so the 
Swiss is characterized by that peculiar spirit of independ- 
ence, and he always reserves his judgment. He doesn't 
easily imitate, and so he doesn't take things for granted. 

You are a man, Professor Jung, who reserves his judgment? 
Always. 

In 1912 you wrote a book, called Psychology of the Uncon- 
scious, 4 and it was at that time that you, as it were, dis- 
sociated yourself from Freud? 

Well, that came about quite automatically because I de- 
veloped certain ideas in that book which I knew Freud 
couldn't approve. Knowing his scientific materialism I knew 
that this was the sort of philosophy I couldn't subscribe to. 

Yours was the introvert, to use your own terminology? 

No. Mine was merely the empirical point of view. I 
didn't pretend to know anything, I wanted just to make the 
experience of the world to see what things are. 

Would you accuse Freud of having become involved in the 
mysticism of terms? 

No; I wouldn't accuse him; it was just a style of the time. 
Thought, in a way, about psychological things was just, as 
it seems to me, impossible — too simple. In those days one 

4 The translation of Wandlungen und Symbole der Libido (1912) ; 
revised 1952 as Symbole der Wandlungen = Symbols of Trans- 
formation, CW 5. 

261 



1955 

talked of psychiatric illness as a sort of by-product of the 
brain. Joking with my pupils, I told them of an old text- 
book for the Medical Corps in the Swiss Army which gave 
a description of the brain, saying it looked like a dish of 
macaroni, and the steam from the macaroni was the psyche. 
That is the old view, and it is far too simple. So I said: 
"Psychology is the science of psychic phenomena." We can 
observe whether these phenomena are produced by the 
brain, or whether they are there in their own right— they 
are just what they are. I have no theory about the origin 
of the psyche. I take phenomena as they are and I try to 
describe them and to classify them, and my terminology is 
an empirical terminology, like the terminology in botany 
or zoology. 

You've travelled a great deal? 

Yes; a lot. I have been with Navaho Indians in North 
America, and in North Africa, in East and Central Africa, 
the Sudan and Egypt, and in India. 

Do you feel that the thought of the East is in any way more 
advanced than the thought in the West? 

Well, you see, the thought of the East cannot be com- 
pared with the thought in the West; it is incommensurable. 
It is something else. 

In what way does it differ, then? 

Well, they are far more influenced by the basic facts about 
psychology than we are. 

That sounds more like your philosophy. 

Oh, yes; quite. That is my particular understanding of the 
East, and the East can appreciate my ideas better, because 
they are better prepared to see the truth of the psyche. Some 
think there is nothing in the mind when the child is born, 
but I say everything is in the mind when the child is born, 
only it isn't conscious yet. It is there as a potentiality. Now, 
the East is chiefly based upon that potentiality. 



262 



The Stephen Blacky Interviews 

Does this contribute to the happiness of people one way or 
the other? Are people happier in themselves in the East? 
I don't think that they are happier than we are. You see, 
they have no end of problems, of diseases and conflicts; that 
is the human lot. 

Is their unhappiness based upon their psychological dif- 
ficulties, like ours, or it is more based upon their physical 
environment, their economics? 

Well, you see, there is no difference between, say, un- 
favorable social conditions and unfavorable psychological 
conditions. We may be, in the West, in very favorable social 
conditions, and we are as miserable as possible — inside. We 
have the trouble from the inside. They have it perhaps more 
from the outside. 

And have you any views on the reason for this misery we 
suffer here? 

Oh, yes; there are plenty of reasons. Wrong values — we 
believe in things which are not really worthwhile. For 
instance, when a man has only one automobile and his 
neighbor has two, then that is a very sad fact and he is apt 
to get neurotic about it. 

In what other ways are our values at fault? 

Well, all ambitions and all sorts of things — illusions, you 
know, of any description. It is impossible to name all those 
things. 

What is your view, Professor Jung, on the place of women 
in society in the Western world? 
In what way ? The question is a bit vague. 

You said just now, Professor Jung, that some of our diffi- 
culties arose out of wrong values, and I'm trying to find 
out whether you feel those wrong values arise in men as a 
result of the demands of women. 
Sometimes, of course, they do, but very often it is the 

263 



1955 

female in a man that is misleading him. The anima in 
man, his feminine side, of which he is truly unaware, is 
causing his moods, his resentments, his prejudices. 

So that the woman who wants two cars because a neighbor 
has two cars, is only stimulating . . .? 

No, perhaps she simply voices what he has felt for a long 
time. He wouldn't dare to express it, but she voices it — she 
is, perhaps, naive enough to say so. 

And what does the man express of the woman's animus? 
Well, he is definitely against it, because the animus always 
gets his goat, it calls forth his anima affects and anima 
moods; they get on each other's nerves. Listen to a conversa- 
tion between a man and wife when there is a certain amount 
of emotion about them. You hear all the wonderful argu- 
ments of an anima in the man; he talks then like a woman, 
and she talks like a man, with very definite opinions and 
knows all about it. 

Do you feel that there's any hope of adjusting this between 
a man and a woman, if they understand it in your terms? 
Well, you see, that is one of the main reasons why I have 
developed a certain psychology of relationship — for instance, 
the relationship in marriage, and how a man and his wife 
should understand each other or how they misunderstand 
each other practically. That's a whole chapter of psychology 
and not an unimportant one. 

Which is the basic behavior? The Eastern? 

Neither. The East is just as one-sided in its way as the 
West is in its way. I wouldn't say that the position of the 
woman in the East is more natural or better than with us. 
Civilizations have developed styles. For instance, a French- 
man or an Italian or an Englishman show very different and 
very characteristic ways in dealing with their respective 
wives. I suppose you have seen English marriages, and you 



264 



The Stephen Blacky Interviews 

know how an English gentleman would deal with his wife 
in the event of trouble, for instance; and if you compare 
this with an Italian, you will see all the difference in the 
world. You know, Italy cultivates its emotions. Italians like 
emotions and they dramatize their emotions. Not so the 
English. 

And in India or Malaya? 

In India, presumably the same; I had no chance to assist 
in a domestic problem in India, happily enough. It was a 
holiday from Europe, where I had had almost too much to 
do with domestic problems of my patients — that sort of 
thing was my daily bread. 

Would you say, then, as a scientific observation that there 
is, in fact, less domestic trouble in the East than in the West? 
I couldn't say that. There is another kind of domestic 
problem, you know. They live in crowds together in one 
house, twenty-five people in one little house, and the grand- 
mother on top of the show, which is a terrific problem. 
Happily enough, we have no such things over here. 

At the end of his life, Freud, one feels, had some dissatisfac- 
tion with the nature of psychoanalysis, the length of time 
involved in the treatment of mental illness and so on. Have 
you, now you're eighty years old, felt any dissatisfaction 
with your wor%? 

No; I couldn't say so. I know I'm not dissatisfied at all, 
but I have no illusions about the difficulty of human nature. 
You see, Freud was always a bit impatient; he always hoped 
to find some short-cut. And I knew that is just the thing 
we would not find, because anything that is good is expen- 
sive. It takes time, it requires your patience and no end of 
it. I can't say I am dissatisfied. And so I always thought 
anything, if it is something good, will take time, will 
demand all your patience, it will be expensive. You can't 
get around it. 

265 



1955 

How did you meet your wife? Is she connected with your 
wor\? 

Well, I met her when she was quite a young girl, about 
fifteen or sixteen, and I just happened to see her, and I said 
to a friend of mine — I was twenty-one then — I said, "That 
girl is my wife." 

Before you'd spo\en to her? 

Yes. "That's my wife." I knew it. I saw her on top of a 
staircase, and I knew: "That is my wife." 

How many children have you got? 

Five children, nineteen grandchildren, and two great- 
grandchildren. 

Has any of this large family followed in your footsteps? 

Well, my son is an architect and an uncle of mine was an 
architect. None has studied medicine— all my daughters 
married — but they are very interested and they "got it" at 
home, you see, through the atmosphere. One nephew is a 
doctor. 

Were you interested in architecture at all? 

Oh, yes; very much so. I have built with my own hands; 
I learned the work of a mason. I went to a quarry to learn 
how to split stones — big rocks. 

And actually laying bric\s, laying the stones? 

Oh, well, in Europe we work with stone. I did actually 
lay stones and built part of my house up in Bollingen. 

Why did you do that? 

I wanted to handle and get the feeling of the stone and 
to touch the earth— I worked a lot in the garden, I have 
chopped wood, felled trees, and all that. I liked sailing and 
rowing and mountain climbing when I was young. 

Could you explain what you thin\ are the origins of this 
desire to touch the earth? We in England have it very 



266 



The Stephen Blac\ Interviews 

much; every Englishman has his little garden. We all love 
the earth. 

Of course. Well, you know, that is — how can we explain 
it? — you love the earth and the earth loves you. And there- 
fore the earth brings forth. That is so even with the peasant 
who wants to make his field fertile, and in the night of the 
full moon he sleeps with his wife in the furrow. 

Professor Jung, what do you thin\ will be the effect upon 
the world of living, as we have been living, and may still 
have to live, under the threat of the hydrogen bomb? 

Well, that's a very great problem. I think the West is 
more affected by it than the East, because the East has a very 
different attitude to death and destruction. Think, for 
instance, of the fact that practically the whole of India 
believes in reincarnation, so when you lose this life you 
have plenty of others. It doesn't matter so much. Moreover, 
this world is illusion anyhow, and if you can get rid of it, 
it isn't so bad. And if you hope for a further life, well, you 
have untold possibilities ahead of you. Since in the West 
there is one life only, therefore I can imagine that the West 
is more disturbed by the possibility of utter destruction than 
the East, We have only one life to lose and we are by no 
means assured of a number of other lives to follow. The 
greater part of the European population doesn't even be- 
lieve in immortality anymore and so, once destroyed, for- 
ever destroyed. That explains a great deal of the reaction 
in the West. We are more vulnerable because of our lack 
of knowledge and contact with the deepest strata of the 
psyche. But the East is better defended in that way, because 
it is based upon the fundamental facts of the human soul 
and believes more in it and in its possibilities than the West. 
And that is a point of uncertainty in the West. It is a very 
critical point. 



267 



II 



AN EIGHTIETH BIRTHDAY 
INTERVIEW 



Mt ll l l H*»MMtMMM» 



Michael Schabad interviewed Jung at his house in Kiisnacht on 
a rainy Friday, July 22, 1955. His article was published on 
July 26 in the National-Zeitung (Basel). This translation is 
somewhat condensed. (Who was Herr Schabad? The editors of 
National-Zeitung cannot recall.) 



Jung welcomes me with perfect courtesy and great charm. 
His tall, erect figure is by no means that of a patriarch. His 
face is ruddy, the white hair is clipped short and displays a 
broad forehead, brown eyes, and a Dinaric nose. The voice 
is resonant, his manner of speech lively, and the gestures 
expressive. He bubbles with ideas, memories, and quota- 
tions, and gives a much younger impression than his 
photographs. 

I began with his relationship with Sigmund Freud during 
the last years in the life of the brilliant father of psycho- 
analysis. My question was a very concrete one: "Professor, 
did you congratulate Freud on the occasion of his eightieth 
birthday?" 

The answer was no, and Jung explained it at length. Some 
time around 1933, he had sent a patient to Freud in Vienna 
with a detailed medical report and a friendly letter. 1 Freud 
did not respond. Since then they had never had any con- 
tact. 

"I always recognized Freud's greatness and genius, but 
he was extremely headstrong. He came out of nowhere and 

1 Actually 1923. See The Freud I Jung Letters, final letter. 

268 



An Eightieth Birthday Interview 

the world was hostile toward him. He had to be obstinate 
to gain acceptance. Had he not been obstinate, his theory 
would have remained unknown. He had to tell himself: 
'Je m'etablirai comme un rocher de bronze.' Once he said to 
me: we have to turn the theory of the unconscious into a 
dogma, to make it immovable. Why a dogma, I replied, 
since sooner or later truth will have to win out? Freud 
explained: We need a dam against the black tide of mud of 
occultism." 2 

C. G. Jung laughed and his eyes sparkled. He quickly 
went on: "Even at the beginning of my work on the 
association test, i.e., after 1904, I realized that complexes are 
not always the result of repressions. Complexes are autono- 
mous and follow laws of their own. There are complexes 
which have never been conscious and therefore cannot have 
been repressed. For Freud the unconscious was mainly re- 
pressed material, a garbage dump for disagreeable experi- 
ences. But the unconscious is more than that." 

I referred to another Freudian concept of the unconscious 
and quoted Freud from memory : "Everything in the psyche 
was unconscious to begin with: the quality of consciousness 
may or may not develop subsequently." Jung admitted 
this, but insisted that when Freud developed his theory he 
focused mainly on repression. I suggested that this had 
probably been necessary for practical reasons since, accord- 
ing to Freud, it was repression that was pathogenic. 

I turned our discussion to Alfred Adler. To underscore 
Freud's great superiority to Adler, Jung made a sweeping 
gesture: "Adler had only one idea. It was a good idea, but 
he did not get beyond schoolmaster psychology." 

(Adler's one correct idea was, of course, the one con- 
cerned with inferiority feelings and their compensation.) 

1 turned to certain modern schools of psychotherapy that 

2 See Memories, Dreams, Reflections, p. 150/147^ 

269 



1955 

question the existence of the Jungian archetypes, and men- 
tioned the names of a number of living authors. Jung de- 
scribed these criticisms as pure verbalism. "It is as if I had a 
collection of minerals, with different rocks in many drawers. 
For the purpose of orientation I label the drawers with 
descriptions of the rocks. These critics are not in the least 
concerned with the rocks but only the labels. Talk of exist- 
ence is not the same as existence proper. Words and names 
are not objects. I am an empiricist and I am concerned with 
facts. The thinking of these critics is two-dimensional, and 
they have no respect for psychological facts." 

With the catch-phrase "psychological facts" Jung gets 
into his element. He relates at great length and vividly 
what he observed on his visits to the Pueblo Indians in New 
Mexico, the Africans in Kenya; he speaks of emotional 
knowledge, the reality of the image, of certain Buddhist 
forms of perception that are not rational or tied to language. 
Undoubtedly Jung himself is deeply convinced of the 
reality of the psyche, i.e., that it works. "You see," he said, 
"I have my life story, and you have yours. I know that I am 
sitting here and that I am talking to you, and you know 
the same thing as far as you are concerned. We are exchang- 
ing words. But aside from words, which address themselves 
to the intellect, there is so much more in the air between 
us: feelings, images, part-souls, or segments of the psyche. 
The people who rely on natural science and the so-called 
realistic view of the world, based on it, are unaware of the 
abstracting and isolating nature of science. True reality 
can only be approached and surmised spiritually." 

"You must be thinking of Goethe's Farbenlehre and his 
Urpflanze," 3 1 interject. 

"You are quite right, And I try to confirm Goethe's in- 
tuitions on the basis of experience." 

3 Works on the theory of colors (1810) and the metamorphosis of 
plants (1790). 



270 



An Eightieth Birthday Interview 

I venture to question him about the parentage of his 
grandfather, Carl Gustav Jung, after whom he was named. 

"There is circumstantial evidence that my grandfather 
was one of Goethe's sons," says Jung. "However, my grand- 
sons don't know about it. I haven't made it a family tradi- 
tion. My grandfather's mother played an important role in 
the theater world of Mannheim." 4 

Three times I make a move to get up and leave, as I do 
not wish to tire Jung, but he is in excellent spirits and does 
not want to let me go. "I have time for you, go on, just ask 
questions!" 

I voice my amazement about his universal erudition. 
"Your productivity is unbelievable," I observe. Jung smiles. 
"Some people believe that others write my books for me. 
But as regards universality, it isn't as bad as all that: for 
example, I had to give up studying ancient Egyptian hiero- 
glyphs and Arabic." 

The subject of conversation turns to the English edition 
of his Collected Works and his correspondence with Freud, 
which has not yet been published, Jung says: "The Anglo- 
Saxons understand me better than the French. The French 
are either Cartesians, or Catholics." At the same time, how- 
ever, he has much praise for the psychological wisdom of 
the Catholic Church and makes a number of interesting 
comments on the recently proclaimed dogma of the As- 
sumption. "It is because the Jews and the Protestants — those 
mitigated Jews — have no pictures of God, because they are 
not allowed to represent the archetypes, that they top the 
statistics for neurosis." 

Taking up a reference I made to the affinity between his 
theories and those of William James, Jung confirms my 
remark, saying that he had known James personally. "But 
do you know who anticipated my entire psychology in the 

4 For the legend of Jung's descent from Goethe, see Memories, 
Dreams, Reflections, ch. II, n. 1. 



271 



1955 

eighteenth century ? The Hasidic Rabbi Baer from Meseritz, 
whom they called the Great Maggid. 5 He was a most im- 
pressive man." 

In conclusion I ask for another interview in ten years 
time. Jung laughs: "In ten years you can shake hands with 
my shadow in Hades." 

[Translated by Ruth Horine] 

5 Rabbi Dow Baer, or Beer, successor to the Baa] Shem, lived from 
1710 to 1772 — M. S. (Cf. G. Scholem, Major Trends in Jewish 
Mysticism, 3rd edn., 1954, pp. 334fl.) 



272 



THE THERAPY OF MUSIC 



Margaret Tilly, a concert pianist of San Francisco, English by 
origin, became interested in experimentation with the thera- 
peutic value of music when used specifically in certain cases. 
This interest grew out of her own experience with Jungian 
analysis, and Miss Tilly was urged by analysts to acquaint 
Jung with her work. In 1956, while in Geneva to give a concert 
on radio, she decided to send Jung some papers that she had 
written. A reply came by return mail, from Jung's secretary, 
asking her to come to Kiisnacht two days later. 

Miss Tilly (1 900-1 969), later the chief music therapist 
at the Langley-Porter Clinic in San Francisco, wrote up her 
encounter with Jung for a memorial booklet prepared by the 
Analytical Psychology Club of San Francisco in 1961. It is 
slightly abridged for the present version. 

References to music are relatively few in Jung's writings — 
fewer than twenty citations in the general index to the Col- 
lected Works. One of Jung's rare comments is found in a 
letter to Serge Moreux, Jan. 20, 1950, in Letters, vol. 1. 



When I walked into his hall, Dr. Jung came with hands 
outstretched to welcome me, and I felt that here was one 
of the warmest and friendliest persons I had ever been with 
— so easy to talk to that one did not feel overawed. 

We sat at a round table in the window of his study. My 
papers were lying in front of him and he seemed to be 
literally bursting with interest and curiosity. He said, "I 
have read and heard a great deal about music therapy, and 
it always seemed to me so sentimental and superficial that 
I was not interested. But these papers of yours are entirely 
different, and I simply cannot wait to hear what you do. 
I can't imagine what it is. You must please use your lan- 



273 



1956 

guage, not mine." I didn't immediately understand what he 
meant by the last sentence, but said, "Before I talk, Dr. 
Jung, may I ask what your own relationship to music has 
been?" And his reply was a surprise. "My mother was a 
fine singer, so was her sister, and my daughter is a fine 
pianist. I know the whole literature — I have heard every- 
thing and all the great performers, but I never listen to 
music any more. It exhausts and irritates me." When I 
asked why, he replied, "Because music is dealing with such 
deep archetypal material, and those who play don't realize 
this." And then I understood at last why the idea has 
grown up that Jung is not particularly sympathetic to mu- 
sic. He cares too much, not too little. 

At this point he said, "With your permission I have 
asked Miss Bailey and my daughter to join us this after- 
noon, as they will be so interested in what you are going 
to tell us. Now let us have a cup of tea together." And we 
proceeded into his large, dark, cozy living room, where he 
introduced me to his daughter and Miss Bailey, 1 who were 
sitting in front of a fire. On the far side of the room was a 
Bechstein grand with its top raised. We had a gay and 
delightful time around the fire, Dr. Jung full of fun and 
charm, and as I swallowed my last drop of tea, he said, 
"I can't wait another minute — let's begin, but you use your 
language." I said, "Do you mean you want me to play?" 
and he said, "Yes. I want you to treat me exactly as though 
I were one of your patients. Now — what do you think I 
need?" We both roared with laughter and I said, "You 
really are standing me up, aren't you?" He said, "Yes, I 
am. Now, let's go to the piano. I am very slightly deaf, 
so may I sit close?" And with that he sat down just behind 
me, so that I had to turn round a little to see him. 

I began to play. When I turned round, he was obviously 

1 Jung's third daughter, Marianne Niehus-Jung (1910-1965), and 
Ruth Bailey, who kept house and cared for Jung after the death 
of his wife in 1955. Cf. below, p. 365. 



274 



The Therapy of Music 

very moved, and said, "Go on — go on." And I played 
again. This second time he was far more deeply moved, 
saying, "I don't know what is happening to me — what are 
you doing?" And we started to talk. He fired question 
after question at me. "In such and such a case what would 
you try to accomplish — where would you expect to get — 
what would you do? Don't just tell me, show me — show 
me"; and gradually as we worked he said, "I begin to see 
what you are doing — show me more." I told him many case 
histories, and we worked on for over two hours. He was 
very excited and as easy and naive as a child to work with. 
Finally he burst out with "This opens up whole new ave- 
nues of research I'd never even dreamed of. Because of what 
you've shown me this afternoon — not just what you've said, 
but what I have actually felt and experienced — I feel that 
from now on music should be an essential part of every 
analysis. This reaches the deep archetypal material that we 
can only sometimes reach in our analytical work with 
patients. This is most remarkable." 

At this point some evil genie made me look at my watch, 
and I said, "Dr. Jung, I have to go, or I miss my train back 
to Paris." "Oh, you mustn't go," he said. "Can't you stay 
a few days and be with us? Can't you come back?" I most 
reluctantly took my leave. His daughter drove me to the 
train and I sat in a daze all the way to Paris. 2 

2 Alan Watts, in his autobiography In My Own Way (New York, 1972), 
p. 394, refers briefly to Margaret Tilly's meeting with Jung and adds: 
"Shortly afterwards, Jung's daughter said to Margaret, 'Perhaps you 
don't realize that you did something very important for me and my fa- 
ther. I have always loved music, but he has never understood it, and this 
was a barrier between us. Your coming has changed all that, and I don't 
know how to thank you.' " 



275 



THE HOUSTON FILMS 



II IIM I MMUMMMUMi 



Richard I. Evans, professor of psychology at the University of 
Houston (Texas), conducted four interviews with Jung at the 
Eidgenossische Technische Hochschule (Federal Institute of 
Technology), in Zurich, on August 5-8, 1957. They were 
filmed by John Meaney, director of the Radio-TV-Film Center 
at the same university, as part of an educational project designed 
for students of the psychology department. The films, four 
hours in duration, have been shown at Houston and other 
American colleges and to other audiences. Later, the analytical 
psychologist Joseph Henderson, M.D., at Jung's express request 
and under the sponsorship of the Bollingen Foundation, edited 
a somewhat abridged version, of about two and one-half hours, 
which is shown more often by Jungian organizations. This was 
the first of a series of filmed interviews by Evans with notable 
contributors to psychology, including B. F. Skinner, Erik 
Erikson, Gordon Allport, Jean Piaget, and R. D. Laing. 

A film transcript, made in Houston, was edited by Evans 
and published as a paperback, Conversations with Carl Jung 
and Reactions from Ernest Jones (Insight Books, Princeton and 
London, 1964), in which the text of the Jung interviews was 
rearranged under various subject-headings; the Jones interview 
had no relation to Jung. Twelve years later, Evans republished 
his version of the interview with corrections and with a ver- 
batim transcript. 1 

1 Dr. Richard I. Evans's interview with C. G. Jung is reprinted 
by permission of Dr. Evans and the University of Houston. It is a 
transcript of the four one-hour interviews which Dr. Evans con- 
ducted with Jung at the latter's home in Kiisnacht, Switzerland, in 
August 1957, and contains editorial changes and corrections by 
R. F. C. Hull, Aniela Jaffe, William McGuire, and others. Permis- 
sion to use the original transcript was granted by Dr. Evans and 
subsequently agreed to by E. P. Dutton & Co. The transcript also 
appears as an appendix in the book Jung on Elementary Psychology: 
A Discussion between Carl Jung and Richard Evans (New York: 
E. P. Dutton & Co.,. Inc.), 1976. 

276 



The Houston Films 

For the present publication, the Houston transcript was 
compared with the tape of the film soundtrack, through nu- 
merous auditions by the editors and Mrs. Jaffe, as well as 
Marie-Louise von Franz and Barbara Hannah, and all possible 
errors of transcription were corrected. Then the text was 
edited in the customary way. Questions have in some cases 
been abbreviated. Deletion of some impenetrably obscure pas- 
sages in the soundtrack is indicated by ellipses, and editorial 
interpretations are in square brackets. There are some editorial 
differences between the two published versions of the verbatim 
transcript. The editors have annotated the present version. 



First Interview 

Dr. Jung, many of us are aware of the fact that in your 
early wor\ you were to some degree at least in association 
with Dr. Sigmund Freud, and I \now it would be of very 
great interest to many of us to hear how you happened to 
become involved in his wor\ and ideas. 

Well, as a matter of fact it was in the year 1900, in De- 
cember, soon after Freud's book about dream interpretation 
had come out, that I was asked by my chief, Professor 
Bleuler, to give a report on the book. 2 I studied the book 
very attentively and I didn't understand many things in it, 
they were not at all clear to me. But from other parts I got 
the impression that this man really knew what he was 
talking about, and I thought that this is certainly a master- 
piece — full of future. I had no ideas then of my own; I was 
just beginning my career as assistant in the psychiatric 
clinic. I began with experimental psychology, or psycho- 
pathology; I applied the experimental association methods 
of Wundt, the same that had been applied at [Kraepelin's] 
psychiatric clinic in Munich, and I had studied the results 
and I had the idea that one should go over them again. So 

2 See Jung's 1901 report on Freud's On Dreams, CW 18, pars. 
841 ff. No report on The Interpretation of Dreams has come to light. 



277 



1957 



I made these association tests 3 and I found out that the 
important thing in them had been missed, because it is not 
interesting to see that there is a reaction — a certain reaction 
— to a stimulus word. That is more or less uninteresting. 
The interesting thing is why people could not react to cer- 
tain stimulus words, or in an entirely inadequate way. 

And then I began to study these places in the experiment 
where the attention or the capability of the test person 
began to waver or to disappear, and I soon found out that 
it was intimate personal affairs people were thinking of, or 
which were in them even if they momentarily did not think 
of them, when they were unconscious in other words; but 
that nevertheless an inhibition came from the unconscious 
and hindered the expression in speech. Then, in examining 
all these cases as carefully as possible, I saw that it was a 
matter of what Freud called repressions. I also saw what he 
meant by symbolization. 

In other words, from your word association studies, some 
of the things in The Interpretation of Dreams began to fall 
into place? 

Yes. And then I wrote a book about the psychology of 
dementia praecox, 4 as it was then called — now it is schizo- 
phrenia—and I sent the book to Freud and wrote to him 
about my association experiments and how they confirmed 
his theory thus far. That is how my friendship with Freud 
began. 

There are other individuals who also became interested in 
Freud's wor\, and one of them was Dr. Alfred Adler. As 
you remember Dr. Adler, what was it in your estimation 
that led him to become interested in Freud's work? 

Well, he belonged; he was one of the young doctors that 
belonged to the Freud circle there. There were about 

3 The "Studies in Word Association" (originally 1905-1907), now 
in CW 2. 

4 In The Psychogenesis of Mental Disease, CW 3. 



278 



The Houston Films 

twenty young doctors who followed Freud, who had a sort 
of little society, and Adler was one who happened to be 
there, and he studied Freud's psychology in that circle. 

Another individual who joined this group was Otto Ran\, 
and of course he, unlike yourself, Dr. Adler and Dr. Freud, 
was not a physician — did not have a medical degree. Was 
this regarded by your group as something unusual? 

Oh no. I met many people from different faculties who 
were interested in psychology. All people who have to do 
with human beings were naturally interested — theologians, 
lawyers, teachers. They all have to do with the human mind 
and these people were naturally interested. I'm naturally 
prejudiced, you know! 

Then your group, including Freud, did not feel that this 
was exclusively an area of interest for the physician? This 
was something that might appeal to many? 

Oh my, yes! Mind you, every patient you have gets inter- 
ested in psychology. Inevitably. Nearly everyone thinks he 
is meant to be an analyst. 

One of the very fundamental ideas of the original psycho- 
analytic theory was Freud's conception of the libido as a 
sort of broad, psychic sexual energy. Of course we all \now 
that you began to feel that Freud might have laid, perhaps, 
a little bit too much stress on sexuality in his theories. When 
did you first begin feeling this? 

Well you see, in the beginning I naturally had certain 
prejudices against his conceptions, but after a while I over- 
came them. I could do that owing to my biological training. 
I could not deny the importance of the sexual instinct, you 
know. But later on I saw that it was really one-sided, be- 
cause you see man is not governed only by the sex instinct 
— there are other instincts as well. For instance, in biology 
you see that the nutritional instinct is just as important as 
the sex instinct, so in primitive societies sexuality plays a 



279 



1957 

role much smaller than food. Food is the all-important in- 
terest and desire. Sex, that is something they can have 
everywhere, they are not shy. But food is difficult to obtain, 
you see, and so it is the main interest. Then in other socie- 
ties — I mean in civilized societies — the power drive plays 
a much greater role than sex. For instance, there are many 
big business men who are impotent, even, because their 
whole energy is going into moneymaking or dictating the 
laws to everybody else. That is much more interesting than 
affairs with women. 

So as you began to loo\ over Freud's emphasis on the sex- 
ual drive, you began to thin\ in terms of other cultures, 
and it seemed to you that this emphasis wasn't sufficiently 
universal to be of primary importance? 

Well you know, I couldn't help seeing it because I had 
studied Nietzsche. I knew the works of Nietzsche very 
well. He had been a professor at Basel University, and the 
air was full of talk about Nietzsche. So naturally I had 
studied his works, and there I saw an entirely different 
psychology, a perfectly competent psychology, but all built 
upon the power drive. 

Do you thin\ it possible that Freud hadn't wanted to be 
influenced by Nietzsche? 
You mean his personal motivation? 

Yes. 

Well of course it was a personal prejudice. It happened 
to be his main point, you know, that certain people are 
chiefly looking for this side and other people for another 
side. So you see, the inferior Dr. Adler, the younger, the 
weaker, naturally had a power complex. He wanted to be 
the successful man. Freud was a successful man, he was 
on top, so he was interested only in pleasure, in the pleas- 
ure principle, while Adler was interested in the power 
drive. 



280 



The Houston Films 

You feel that it was a sort of function of his own per- 
sonality? 

Yes, it is quite natural, it is one of two ways of dealing 
with reality. Either you make reality an object of pleasure if 
you are powerful enough already, or you make it an object 
of your desire to grab it, or to possess it. 

Some observers have thought that perhaps the patients 
Freud saw in Vienna of this period were often repressed 
sexually, and this may have been one thing that reinforced 
Freud's ideas. In other words, the Viennese society was a 
rather — quotes — "repressed" society. 

Well, it is certainly true that at the end of the Victorian 
age there was a reaction going on all over the world against 
the sex taboos, so-called. One didn't understand properly 
any more why or why not, and Freud belonged to that time. 
It was a sort of liberation of the mind from such taboos. 

There was a reaction, then, against the tight, inhibited 
culture he was living in. 

Oh yes. Freud in that way really belonged to the category 
of a Nietzschean mind. Nietzsche had liberated Europe 
from a great deal of such prejudices, but only concerning 
the power drive and our illusions as to the motivations of 
our morality. It was a time critical of morality. 

So Freud, in a sense, was taking another direction? 

Yes. And moreover, sex being the main instinct, the pre- 
dominating instinct, then, in a society where the social 
conditions are more or less safe, sexuality is apt to predom- 
inate because people are taken care of. They have their 
positions, they have enough food — no question of hunting 
and seeking food or anything like that — and then it is quite 
probable that the patients you meet practically all have a 
certain sexual complex. 

So this is the drive in that particular society most lively to 
be inhibited? 



281 



1957 

Yes. It is a sort of finesse, almost, when you find out that 
somebody has a power drive and his sex only serves the 
purpose of power. For instance, a charming man whom all 
women think is the real hero of all hearts, he is a power- 
devil, like a Don Juan, you know. The woman is not his 
problem, his problem is how to dominate. So in the second 
place after sex comes the power drive, and even that is not 
the end. 



Now going still further into the development of Freud's 
theory, which of course was a significant factor as you say 
in the development of many of your own early ideas — Freud 
talked a great deal about the unconscious. 

As soon as research comes to the question of the uncon- 
scious, things necessarily become blurred, because the un- 
conscious is something which is really unconscious, and so 
you have no object, you see nothing! You can only make 
inferences, you know, and so we have to create a model of 
this possible structure of the unconscious because we can't 
see it. Now Freud came to the concept of the unconscious 
chiefly on the basis of the same experience I had in the 
association experiment. People reacted, they said things, they 
did things, without knowing that they had done or said 
them. This is something you can observe in the association 
experiment, where people cannot remember afterwards 
what they did or what they said when a stimulus word hits 
the complex. In the so-called reproduction experiment you 
go through the whole list of words, and you see that the 
memory fails where there was a complex reaction. That is 
the simple fact Freud had based his idea of the unconscious 
on. Because that is what we can see, time and again, wher 
people make a mistake in speech or say something the> 
didn't mean to say; they just make ridiculous mistakes 
There is no end of stories, you know, about how people cai 
betray themselves by saying something they didn't mean t( 
say at all, yet the unconscious meant them to say just thai 

282 



The Houston Films 



thing. For instance, when you want to express your sym- 
pathy at a funeral, you go to someone and you say "I con- 
gratulate you." That's pretty painful, you know, but it 
happens, and it is true. 

Now this is something that goes parallel with the whole 
school of the Salpetriere, in Paris. There was Pierre Janet, 
who had worked out that side of the unconscious reactions 
quite particularly. Freud refers very little to Pierre Janet, 
but I studied with Pierre Janet in Paris and he formed my 
ideas very much. He was a first-class observer, though he 
had no dynamic psychological theory. It was a sort of 
physiological theory of unconscious phenomena, the so- 
called abaissement du niveau mental, that is, a certain de- 
potentiation of the tension of consciousness. A content sinks 
below the level of consciousness and thus becomes uncon- 
scious. That is Freud's view too, only he says it sinks down 
because it is helped, it is repressed from above. That was 
my first point of difference with Freud. I said there were 
cases in my observation where there was no repression from 
above, but the thing itself is true. Those contents that 
became unconscious had withdrawn all by themselves, they 
were not repressed. On the contrary, they have a certain 
autonomy. I discovered the concept of autonomy because 
these contents that disappear have the power to move 
independently of my will. Either they appear when I want 
to say something definite, they interfere and speak them- 
selves instead of what I wanted to say, or they make me do 
something I didn't want to do at all, or they withdraw at 
the very moment I want to use them. They certainly dis- 



appear 



And this is independent of any of the pressures on con- 
sciousness Freud suggested? 

Yes. There can be such cases, sure enough. But besides 
them there are also the cases that show that the uncon- 
scious contents acquire a certain independence. All mental 



283 



1957 

contents that have a feeling-tone that is emotional, that 
have the value of an affect, have the tendency to become 
autonomous. So you see, anybody in an emotion will say 
and do things which he cannot vouch for. He must excuse 
himself for being in a state, he was non compos mentis. 

Freud recognized that in a sense the individual is born 
entirely a victim of what he later called the Id, which is 
unconscious and undeveloped, a collection of animal drives. 
It is not easy to see where all these drives, these instincts, 
come from. 

Nobody knows where instincts come from. They are 
there, you find them. It is a story that was played out 
millions of years ago. There sexuality was invented, and I 
wasn't there so I don't know how this happened. Feeding 
was invented very much longer ago even than sex, and why 
and how it was invented I don't know, I wasn't there. So 
we don't know where instinct comes from. It is quite ridicu- 
lous to speculate about such an impossibility. The question 
is only: Where do those cases come from where instinct 
does not function? That is something within our reach, 
because we can study the cases where instinct does not 
function. 

Could you give us some rather specific examples of what 
you mean by cases where the instinct does not function? 
Well, instead of instinct, which is a habitual form of 
activity, take any other form of habitual activity. Once, 
suddenly, that thing doesn't function. Take a singer who is 
in absolute control of his voice, suddenly he can't sing. Or 
take a man who writes fluently, suddenly he makes a 
ridiculous mistake, his habit doesn't function. You see, 
when you ask me something, I'm supposed to be able to 
react to you. Suddenly I am bouche beante [open-mouthed] 
—for instance if you succeed in touching one of my com- 
plexes, you can see that I am absolutely perplexed. I am 
depossede, and words fail me! [Laughter.] 

284 



The Houston Films 

We haven't seen you very perplexed yet, Dr. Jung. 

Or look for instance at exam psychology, a fellow who 
knows his stuff quite well. The professor asks him some- 
thing and he cannot say a word. 

A blocks, yes. Another part of Freud's theory was the idea 
that out of this sort of unconscious instinctual structure — 
and of course the word "structure" has to be put in quo- 
tation mar\s as you point out it is only a model— which 
Freud called, the Id, an ego emerges as a result of the or- 
ganism's contact with reality, in a sense perhaps also a 
product of frustration as reality is imposed on the develop- 
ing individual. Now do you accept this conception of the 
ego? 

Whether the individual has an ego at all, that is your 
question? Ah, that is again such a case — I wasn't there when 
it was invented! However, you can observe it to a certain 
extent with a child, because a child definitely begins in a 
state where there is no ego. And then about the fourth year 
or before, but about that time, the child develops a sense of 
e g°> "I," "myself," and that is in the first place an identity 
with the body. For instance, when you ask primitives they 
always emphasize the body. You ask, "Who has brought 
this thing here?" And the Negro will say, "Uh [a grunt] 
brought it"— no accent on the "I," simply "brought it." You 
say, "But have you brought it?" and then he says, "In here, 
me, me, yes, I, myself, this given object, this thing here." 
So the identity with the body is one of the first things which 
makes an ego; it is the spatial separateness that induces, ap- 
parently, the concept of an ego. Then, of course, there are 
lots of other things. Later on it is mental differences, per- 
sonal differences of all sorts, etc. You see, the ego is con- 
tinuously building up; it is not a finished product, never, it 
builds up. No year passes when you do not discover a new 
little aspect in which you are more ego than you thought. 

There has been much discussion about how certain ex- 
periences in the early years influence the formation of the 

285 



1957 



ego. One of the most extreme views was advanced by Otto 
Rank- He spoke of the birth trauma and said that the actual 
trauma of being born would have a very powerful impact 
on the ego and show itself throughout life. 

I should say it is very important for an ego that it is born. 
It is highly traumatic, you know, when you fall out of 
heaven! [Laughter.] 

But do you ta\e literally Otto Rank's position that the birth 
trauma has a profound psychological effect? 

Of course. For instance, if you are a believer in Schopen- 
hauer's philosophy you say it is a hellish trauma to be born. 
There is a Greek saying, "It is beautiful to die in youth, but 
the most beautiful of all things is not to be born." Philos- 
ophy, you see. 

r 

But you don't ta\e this as a literal psychic event? 

Don't you see, this is an event which happens to every- 
body that exists — that he once has been born! Everybody 
who is born has undergone that trauma, so the word trauma 
has lost its meaning. It is a general fact, and you cannot say 
it is a "trauma." It is just a fact. Because you cannot observe 
a psychology that hasn't been born; only then could you 
say what the birth trauma is. Until then you cannot even 
speak of such a thing. It is j ust a lack of epistemology. 

Yes, I see. Going a little further, in the more or less orthodox 
psychoanalytic view, as you well know, there is a great deal 
of attention paid to what Freud called psychosexual develop- 
ment. Step by step the individual encounters a series of 
problems which he must resolve in order to mature. One of 
the earliest problems seems to center round, you might say, 
primitive oral satisfactions, or oral zone experiences — 

In other words, the nutritional instinct was more im- 
portant than sex. That's not very interesting. 

Do you interpret this, then, as a sort of nutritional hunger 
drive? You do not see it as an early representation of the 
sexual drive? 

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I think, you see, that when you say one of the first and 
foremost interests is to feed, it doesn't need a peculiar kind 
of terminology like "oral zone." Of course they put it into 
the mouth. 

So you look at i* * n a much simpler sense? 
Science consists to a great extent of mere talk. 

Another rather fundamental point in the development of 
the ego in the more or less orthodox psychoanalytic view is 
that the oral zone is followed by another critical level, an 
anal level of development. At this level another crucial, early 
frustration arises, centering on toilet training. Would you 
regard this so-called anal level as having broad sexual impli- 
cations and being significant from the standpoint of ego- 
development and character formation? 

Well, one can use such a terminology because it is a fact 
that children are exceedingly interested in all the orifices of 
the body and in doing all sorts of disgusting things, you 
know, and sometimes such a peculiarity keeps on into later 
life. It is quite astonishing what you can hear in that re- 
spect. Now it is equally true that people who have such 
preferences also develop a peculiar character. In early child- 
hood a character is already there. You see, a child is not 
born a tabula rasa, as one assumes. The child is born as a 
highly complex organism, with existing determinants that 
never waver throughout life and that give the child his 
character. Already in earliest childhood a mother recognizes 
the individuality of her child, and if you observe carefully 
you can see tremendous differences even in very small 
children. These peculiarities express themselves in every 
way, first in all childish activities, in the way they play, in 
the things they are interested in. There are children who 
are tremendously interested in all moving things, in move- 
ment chiefly — all the things that affect the body. They are 
interested in what the eyes do, what the ears do, how far 
you can bore into your nose with your finger, you know. 

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They will do the same with the anus, they will do whatever 
they please with their genitals. When I was a boy at school 
we once stole the class-book where all the punishments were 
noted, and there our professor had noted, So-and-so pun- 
ished with two hours for toying with his genitals during 
the religious hour. 

These interests express themselves in a typically childish 
way in children. And later on they express themselves in 
other peculiarities which are still the same, but this doesn't 
come from the fact that once they had done such and such a 
thing in childhood. It is the character that is doing it. There 
is a definite inherited complexity, and if you want to know 
something about the possible reasons you must go to the 
parents. So in any case of a child's neurosis I go back to the 
parents 'and see what is going on there, because children 
have no psychology of their own, in the literal sense. They 
are so much in the mental atmosphere of the parents, so 
much en participation mystique with them, they are im- 
bued with the paternal or maternal atmosphere, and they 
express these influences in their childish way. Take an 
illegitimate child. He is particularly exposed to environ- 
mental difficulties, such as the misfortune of the mother, 
etc., etc., and all the other complications. Such a child will 
miss, say, a father. Now in order to compensate for this it is 
just as if he were choosing or nominating a part of his body 
for a father, instead of the father, and he develops, for 
instance, masturbation. That is very often so with illegiti- 
mate children. They become terribly autoerotic, even 
criminal. 

With reference to the role of the parents, one of the central 
parts of the so-called psychosexual development in the more 
or less orthodox psychoanalytic theory is the so-called Oedi- 
pus complex — 

That is just what I call an archetype. It was the first 
archetype Freud discovered, the first and only one. He 

288 






thought this was the archetype. Of course there are many 
such archetypes. You look at Greek mythology and you 
find them, any amount of them. Or look at dreams and 
you find any amount of them. But incest was so impressive 
to him that he even chose the term "Oedipus complex" 
because that was one of the outstanding examples of an 
incest complex. And it is only the masculine form, mind 
you, because women have an incest complex too. But there 
it is not an Oedipus, so it is something else. It is only the 
term for an archetypal way of behavior, in the case of a 
man's relation, say, to his mother; but this also means to 
his daughter, because whatever he was to the mother he 
will be it to the daughter too. It can be this way or that 
way. It depends. 

Then you will accept the Oedipus complex but not as being 
the only important such influence. You see it as just one of 
many. 

One of the many, many ways of behavior. The Oedipus 
gives you an excellent example of the behavior of an arche- 
type. It is always a whole situation. There is a mother, there 
is a father, there is a son, there is a whole story of how such 
a situation develops and to what end it finally leads. And 
that is an archetype. An archetype is always a sort of ab- 
breviated drama. It begins in such and such a way, it ex- 
tends to such and such a complication, and it finds its solu- 
tion in such and such a way. That is the usual form. Take 
for instance the instinct of building a nest with birds. In the 
way they build the nest there is the beginning, the middle, 
and the end. It is built just to suffice for a certain number 
of young. So you see the end is already anticipated. That is 
the reason why, in the archetype itself, there is no time. It 
is a timeless condition where beginning, middle, and end 
are just the same, they are all given in one. This is only a 
hint of what the archetype can do, you know. But that's a 
complicated question. 

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To discuss more specifically Freud's concept of the Oedipus 
complex, it is commonly held, again in fairly orthodox 
psychoanalytic circles, that the child's early family patterns 
of behavior with the mother, the father, etc., are relived 
over and over again. For example, when the young man 
gets married, he may react to his wife as he did to his 
mother, or he may be searching for someone li\e his mother, 
or the daughter will be searching for a father. Does this 
recapitulation of the very early Oedipus situation fit in 
with your conceptions? 

Oh no. No, no. You see, Freud speaks of the incest 
complex just in the way you describe, but he omits com- 
pletely the fact that with this Oedipus complex there is 
already given the contrary, namely the resistance against it. 
If the Oedipus complex were really predominant, we would 
have been suffocated in incest half a million years ago at 
least. But there is a compensation. In all early levels of 
civilization you find the marriage laws, exogamous laws. 
The first form, the most elementary form, is that a man can 
only marry his cousin on the maternal side. The next form 
is that he can only marry his cousin in the second degree, 
from the grandmother. There are four-class systems, eight- 
and twelve-class systems, and in China there are still some 
traces of a twelve-class and a six-class system. Those are 
developments beyond the incest complex and against the 
incest complex. Now if sexuality is predominant, particu- 
larly incestuous sexuality, how can it develop? These things 
developed in a time long before there was any idea of the 
child, say, of my sister. That's all wrong. On the contrary it 
[sister-incest] was a royal prerogative as late as the Achaem- 
enid kings of Persia, and among the Egyptian Pharaohs. 
If the Pharaoh had a daughter by his sister, he married that 
daughter and again had a child with her and then married 
his grand-daughter, because that was the royal prerogative. 
And so you see, the preservation of the royal blood is always 
a sort of attempt at the highly appreciated incestuous re- 



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striction of the number of ancestors, because this is a loss of 
ancestors. Now you see that must be explained too. It is not 
only the one thing, there is also its compensation. You 
know this plays a very great role in the history of human 
civilization. 5 Freud is always inclined to explain these things 
by external influences; for instance, you would not feel ham- 
pered in any way if there were not a law against it, no one is 
hampered by himself. And that is what he never would 
admit to me. 6 

Apropos that point, Freud in his later writings introduced a 
sort of part ego which he called the super-ego — 

Yes, the super-ego, the codex of what you can and what 
you cannot do. 

5 Jung's statements are very condensed here and several steps in 
the argument are missing. The incest complex is discussed in detail 
in "The Psychology of the Transference," CW 16, pars. 4ioff. 
Briefly, the incestuous or endogamous tendency is kept in check 
("compensated") by the exogamous tendency, resulting in the so- 
ciological compromise of the primitive "sister-exchange" or "cross- 
cousin marriage" and the development of marriage classes (pars. 
43iff.). The cross-cousin marriage rests upon the foundation of the 
"archetypal marriage quaternio which is not a human invention 
at all but a fact that existed long before consciousness" (par. 437). 
The endogamous tendency was permitted expression in the form 
of sister-incest until quite late times only as a royal prerogative, 
the kings being the representatives of the gods, who on a primitive 
level were believed to propagate their kind incestuously (par. 419). 
By reducing the number of merely human ancestors, incest pre- 
served the divinity of the royal blood. "The idea of the incestuous 
hierosgamos does in fact appear in civilized religions and blossoms 
forth in the supreme spirituality of Christian imagery (Christ and 
the Church, sponsus and sponsa, the mysticism of the Song of 
Songs, etc.)" (par. 438). Thus the endogamous tendency must 
also be considered "as a genuine instinct which, if denied realization 
in the flesh, must realize itself in the spirit" ("compensation") 
(par. 438). 

6 That is, would not admit that man does check himself and that 
his resistance to incest, for example, is partly "built-in" and not 
determined solely by sexual taboos. The super-ego is "a natural 
and inherited part of the psyche's structure." Cf. "A Psychological 
View of Conscience," CW 10, pars. 83of. 



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Built-in prohibitions — 

Yes, but Freud doesn't see that it is in himself, he has it in 
himself. Otherwise there could be no balance in the indi- 
vidual. And who in hell would have invented the deca- 
logue? That was not invented by Moses. But there is an 
eternal truth in man himself, because he checks himself. 

You mentioned earlier that Freud's Oedipus situation was 
an example of the archetype. Could you please elaborate on 
this concept? 

Well, you know what a behavior pattern is. 7 The way in 
which, say a weaver bird builds his nest. That is an inherited 
form in him which he will apply. Or certain sorts of sym- 
biotic phenomena between insects and plants. They are in- 
herited patterns of behavior. And man, of course, has an 
inherited scheme of functioning too. His liver, his heart, all 
his organs, and his brain will always function in a certain 
way, each following its pattern. You would have great 
difficulty in seeing it because we cannot compare it with 
anything. There are no other beings like man that are 
articulate and could give an account of their functioning. If 
that were the case we would know — I don't know what — 
but because we have no means of comparison we are neces- 
sarily unconscious about our own conditions. Yet it is quite 
certain that man is born with a certain way of functioning, 
a certain pattern of behavior, and that is expressed in the 
form of archetypal images. 

For instance, the way in which a man should behave is 
given by an archetype. That is why primitives tell the stories 
they do. A great deal of education goes through story- 
telling. They call a palaver of the young men and two older 
men perform before the eyes of the younger all the things 
they should not do. Then they say, "Now that's exactly the 
thing you shall not do." Another way is to tell them of all 
the things they should not do, like the decalogue — "Thou 

7 Cf. "On the Nature of the Psyche," CW 8, pp. 20off. 



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shalt not." And that is always supported by mythological 
tales. Our ancestors have done so and so, and so shall you. 
Or such and such a hero has done so and so, and this is your 
model. Again, in the teachings of the Catholic Church 
there are several thousand saints. They show us what to do, 
they serve as models. They have their legends and that is 
Christian mythology. In Greece there was Theseus, there 
was Heracles, models of fine men, of gentlemen, you know, 
and they teach us how to behave. They are archetypes of 
behavior. 

Or take a more concise archetype like the archetype of 
the ford, the ford through a river. That again is a whole 
situation. You have to cross the ford, you are in the water, 
there is an ambush, or there is a water animal, say a croco- 
dile or something like that. There is a danger and some- 
thing is going to happen, and the question is how you 
escape. Now this is a whole situation that makes an arche- 
type. And that archetype now has a suggestive effect upon 
you. For instance, you get into a situation, you don't know 
what the situation is. Suddenly you are seized by an emotion 
or by a spell, and you behave in a certain way you have not 
foreseen at all. You do something quite strange to yourself. 

You'd call it spontaneous? 

Quite spontaneous, and that is done through the arche- 
type that is constellated. We have a famous case in our 
Swiss history of King Albrecht, 8 who was murdered at the 
ford of the Reuss not very far from Zurich. His murderers 
were riding behind him for the whole stretch from Zurich 
to the Reuss, and they deliberated and couldn't agree 
whether they wanted to kill the king or not. And the 
moment the king rode into the ford Johannes Parricida, the 
father murderer, shouted, "Why do we let that" — and used 
a swearword — "live on!" And they killed him. Because this 



8 Albert, d. 1308, killed by his nephew, John the Parricide. 

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• 



1 



was the moment when they were seized, this was the right 
moment. 

So you see, when you have lived in primitive conditions, 
in the primeval forest among primitive people, you know 
that phenomenon. You are seized by a spell, and then you 
do something that is unexpected. Several times when I was 
in Africa I got into such situations and afterwards I was 
amazed. One day I was in the Sudan, and it was really a 
very dangerous situation which I didn't recognize at the 
moment at all. But I was seized by a spell, and I did some- 
thing I wouldn't have expected, I couldn't have invented it. 
The archetype is a force. It has an autonomy and it can 
suddenly seize you. It is like a seizure. Falling in love at 
first sight is something like that. You see, you have a certain 
image in yourself, without knowing it, of woman, of the 
woman. Then you see that girl, or at least a good imitation 
of your type, and instantly you get a seizure and you are 
gone. And afterwards you may discover that it was a hell of 
a mistake. A man is quite able, he is intelligent enough, to 
see that the woman of his "choice," as one says, was no 
choice, he has been caught! He sees that she is no good at 
all, that she is a hell of a business, and he tells me so. He 
says, "For God's sake, doctor, help me to get rid of that 
woman!" He can't, though, he is like clay in her fingers. 
That is the archetype, the archetype of the anima. 9 And he 
thinks it is all his soul, you know! It's the same with the 
girls. When a man sings very high, a girl thinks he must 
have a very wonderful spiritual character because he can 
sing the high C, and she is badly disappointed when she 
marries that particular number. Well, that's the archetype 
of the animus. 

Dr. Jung, to be even a little bit more specific, you have sug- 
gested that in all societies there are symbols that in a sense 

9 For the anima see Two Essays on Analytical Psychology, CW 7, 
pars. 296ft.; "Concerning the Archetypes, with Special Reference 
to the Anima Concept," CW 9 i; Aion, CW 9 ii, ch. III. 



direct or determine what a man does. You also suggest that 
somehow these symbols become inborn and — quotes — "in- 
bred." 

They don't become. They are. They are there to begin 
with. You see, we are born into a pattern, we are a pattern. 
We are a structure that is pre-established through the genes. 

Would you say, then, that the archetype is just a higher 
order of an instinctual pattern, such as your earlier example 
of a bird building a nest? 

It is a biological order of our mental functioning, just as 
our biological or physiological functioning follows a pattern. 
The behavior of any bird or insect follows a pattern, and it 
is the same with us. Man has a certain pattern that makes 
him specifically human, and no man is born without it. We 
are deeply unconscious of this fact only because we all live 
by our senses and outside of ourselves. If a man could look 
into himself he could discover it. When a man discovers it 
in our days he thinks he is crazy — and he may be crazy. 

Would you say the number of such archetypes are limited, 
prefixed, or can the number increase? 

Well, I don't know what I do know about it, it is so 
blurred. You see, we have no means of comparison. We 
know there is a behavior, say, like incest, or there is a 
behavior of violence, a behavior of panic, a behavior of 
power, and so on. Those are areas, as it were, in which there 
are many variations. It can be expressed in this way or that 
way, you know. And they overlap, often you cannot say 
where one form begins or ends. It is nothing concise, be- 
cause the archetype in itself is completely unconscious and 
you can only see the effects of it. When you know a person 
is possessed by an archetype, you can divine and even 
prognosticate possible developments. For instance, when 
you see that a man is caught by a certain type of woman in a 
very specific way, you know he is caught by the anima. 
Then the whole thing will have such and such complica- 



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tions, such and such developments, because it is typical. 
And the way the anima is described is exceedingly typical. 
I don't know if you know Rider Haggard's She, or L'Atlan- 
tide by Benoit. Those are anima types, and they are quite 
unmistakable. C'est la femme fatale. 

You have used the concepts anima and animus and I won- 
der if you could perhaps elaborate more specifically on 
those terms? 

Well, this is a bit complicated, you know. The anima is 
an archetypal form, expressing the fact that a man has a 
minority of female genes, and that is something that does 
not disappear in him. It is constantly present, and it works 
as a female in a man. Therefore already in the sixteenth 
century the humanists discovered that man has an anima; 
each man carries his female within himself, they said. 10 So 
that is not a modern invention. It is the same with the 
animus. It is a masculine image in a woman's mind which 
is sometimes quite conscious, sometimes not conscious, and 
it is called into life the moment that woman meets a man 
who says the right things. Then because he says it, it is all 
true, and he is the fellow, no matter what he is. Those are 
particularly well-founded archetypes, those two. They are 
extremely well defined. And there you can lay hands on the 
basis, as it were, of the archetype. 



Second Interview 

Dr. Jung, we have been discussing some of the factors in the 
development of the personality, and you have very kindly 
elaborated for us some of your fundamental conceptions 
such as the archetype, and the anima and animus. Now 
another concept which seems to be a very interesting one in 

10 Hermetis Trismegisti Tractatus vere Aureus . . . cum scholiis 
Dominici Gnosii (Leipzig, 1610). Cf. "Psychology and Religion," 
CW 11, p. 30, n. 32. 

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your wor\ is the persona. 1 wonder if you would mind 
telling us something about this? 

Well, this is a practical concept we need in elucidating 
people's relations. 11 I noticed with my patients, particularly 
with people in public life, that they have a certain way of 
presenting themselves. For instance, take the doctor. He has 
good bedside manners, and he behaves as one expects a 
doctor to behave. He may even identify himself with his role 
and believe that he is what he appears to be. He must appear 
in a certain form, or people won't believe he is a doctor. 
The same with a professor, he is supposed to behave in a 
certain way so that it is plausible that he is a professor. So 
the persona is a complicated system of behavior which is 
dictated by the demands of society and partly by one's fiction 
of oneself. 

Now this is not the real personality. In spite of the fact 
that people will assure you it is all quite real and honest, it 
is not. The performance of the persona is quite all right as 
long as you know that you are not identical with the way 
you appear. But if you are not conscious of this fact you 
sometimes get into very disagreeable conflicts. People can't 
help noticing that at home you are quite different from 
what you appear to be in public. And individuals who are 
not aware of this stumble over it in the end. They deny 
they are like that, but they are like that. Then you don't 
know which is the real man. Is he the man he is at home in 
his intimate relations, or is he the man that appears in pub- 
lic? It is often a question of Jekyll and Hyde. Occasionally 
there is such a difference that you could almost speak of a 
double personality. And the more pronounced it is, the more 
people get neurotic. They got neurotic because they have 
two different ways, they contradict themselves all the time, 
and being unconscious of themselves they don't know it. 
They think they are all one, but everybody sees that they 

11 For the persona see Two Essays, pars. 241ft. 



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are two. Some know them only from one side, others only 
from the other side. And then there are situations that clash, 
because the way you are creates situations in your relation- 
ships with people, and these two situations don't chime, in 
fact they are just dishonest. And the more this is so, the 
more people are neurotic. 

Would you say that the individual may even have more 
than two personas? 

Oh, rarely. We can't afford very well to play more than 
two roles. But there are cases of people who have up to five 
different personalities. In cases of dissociation of personality, 
for instance, where the one person — call him person A — 
doesn't know of the existence of person B, but B knows of 
A. There may be a third personality, C, that doesn't know 
of the tw6 others. There are such cases in the literature, but 
they are rare. 

Very rare. 

In ordinary cases, it's just an ordinary dissociation of 
personality. One calls that a systematic dissociation, in 
contradistinction to the chaotic or unsystematic dissociation 
you find in schizophrenia. 

Do you distinguish between the term "persona" and the 
term "ego"? Are they two different things? 

Well you see, the ego is supposed to be the representative 
of the real person. For instance, when B knows of A but 
A doesn't know of B, one would say that the ego is more 
on the side of B, because the ego has a more complete 
knowledge, and A is a split-off personality. 

You also use the term "self." Does it have a different mean- 
ing from "ego" and "persona"? 

Yes, oh quite. When I say "self" 12 you mustn't think of 
"I myself," because that is only your empirical self which 

12 For the self see Aion, chs. I and IV. 

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is covered by the term "ego." But when it is a matter of the 
"self" it means a personality that is more complete than the 
ego, because the ego consists only of what you are conscious 
of, what you know to be yourself. In our example of B who 
knows A though A doesn't know B, B is relatively in the 
position of the self. The self is, on one side, the ego, on the 
other side it is the unconscious personality which is in the 
possession of everybody. Very often it is just the other way 
round: the unconscious is in possession of consciousness. 
But that is a different case. 

You see, while I am talking I am conscious of what I say; 
I am conscious of myself, yet only to a certain extent. Quite a 
lot of things happen. For instance, I make gestures but am 
not conscious of them. They happen unconsciously, you can 
see them. I may use words and can't remember at all having 
used those words, or even at the moment I may not be 
conscious of them. So any amount of unconscious things 
occur in my conscious condition. I'm never wholly conscious 
of myself. While I am trying to elaborate an argument, at 
the same time there are unconscious processes that continue 
perhaps a dream I had last night, or a part of myself thinks 
of God knows what, of a trip I'm going to take, or of such 
and such people I have seen. Or when I am writing a paper, 
I continue writing that paper in my mind without knowing 
it. You can discover these things, say, in dreams, or if you 
are clever, by direct observation of the individual. Then you 
see in the gestures, or in the expression of the face, that 
there is an arriere pensee, something behind consciousness. 
So that you finally have the feeling, Well, that man has 
something up his sleeve, and you can even ask him, "What 
are you really thinking of? You are thinking all the time 
of something else." Yet he is not conscious of it. Or again, 
he may be. There are individuals who have an amazing 
knowledge of themselves, of the things that go on in them- 
selves. But even those people wouldn't be capable of know- 
ing what is going on in their unconscious. 



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For instance, they are not conscious of the fact that while 
they live a conscious life, all the time a myth is being played 
out in the unconscious, a myth that extends over centuries, a 
stream of archetypal ideas that goes on through the centuries 
through an individual. Really it is like a continuous stream, 
and it comes to light in the great movements, say in political 
or spiritual movements. For instance, in the time before the 
Reformation, people dreamt of the great change. That is the 
reason why such great transformations could be predicted. 
If somebody were clever enough to see what is going on in 
the unconscious mind, he would be able to predict it. I 
predicted the Nazi rising in Germany through the observa- 
tion of my German patients. They had dreams in which the 
whole thing was anticipated, and in considerable detail. And 
I was absolutely certain, in the years before Hitler — I could 
even say the year, in the year 1918 — I was sure that some- 
thing was threatening, something very big, and very catas- 
trophic. 13 I knew it only through the observation of the 
unconscious. 

There is something very particular in the different na- 
tions. It is a peculiar fact that the archetype of the anima 
plays a very great role in Western literature, French and 
Anglo-Saxon. Not in Germany. There are exceedingly few 
examples in German literature where the anima plays a 
role. 14 That is simply due to the fact that not one woman is 
buried unless she is buried as "alt Kaminfegersgattin" 15 at 
least. She must have a title, otherwise she hasn't existed. 
And so it is just as if — now mind you, this is a bit drastic, 
but it illustrates my point — as if in Germany there really 
are no women. There is Frau Doktor, Frau Professor, Frau 
Kommerzienrat, 18 the grandmother, the mother-in-law, the 

13 "The Role of the Unconscious," CW 10, par. 17. 

14 Cf. "Flying Saucers: A Modern Myth," CW 10, par. 775. 

15 "Old chimney sweep's wife." 

16 "Councillor of Commerce," a quite meaningless title which 
sounds impressive to successful tradesmen, etc. 



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grandfather, the father, the son, the daughter, the sister. No 
woman — la femme ca n'existe pas. That is the idea, you see. 
Now that is an enormously important fact which shows 
that in the German mind there is going on a particular 
myth, something very peculiar, and psychologists really 
should look out for these things. But they prefer to think 
that I am a prophet. Ha! 

This is of course a very interesting and remarkable set of 
statements. How do you loo\ at Hitler in this light? Would 
you see him as a personification, a symbol of the father? 

No, no, no, not at all. I couldn't possibly explain the very 
complicated fact that Hitler represents. It is too complicated. 
You know, he is a hero figure, and a hero figure is far 
more important than any fathers that have ever existed. 

Much broader — 

He was no father at all, he was a hero in the German 
myth. And mind you, a religious hero. He was a savior, 
he was meant to be a savior. That is why they put his photo 
upon the altars, even. Or someone declared on his tombstone 
that he is happy that his eyes had beheld Hitler, and now 
he can lie in peace. He is just a hero myth, you see. 

Now getting bac\ to the idea of the self, the self incor- 
porates those unconscious factors — 

The self is merely a term that designates the whole per- 
sonality. The whole personality of man is indescribable. His 
consciousness can be described, his unconscious cannot be 
described because the unconscious — and here I must repeat 
myself — is always unconscious. It is really unconscious, we 
really don't know it, so we don't know our unconscious 
personality. We have hints, we have certain ideas, but we 
don't know it really. Nobody can say where man ends. That 
is the beauty of it, you know; it's very interesting. The 
unconscious of man can reach God knows where. There we 
are going to make discoveries. 



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Now another set of ideas, which of course are very, very 
well known to the world but which you have originated, 
centers round the terms "introversion" and "extr aversion." 17 

Like the word "complex"— I invented it too, you know, 
from the association experiment. Well you see, this is simply 
practical, because there are certain people who definitely are 
more influenced by their surroundings than by their own 
intentions, while other people are more influenced by the 
subjective factor. Now the subjective factor, and this is very 
characteristic, was understood by Freud as a sort of patho- 
logical autoeroticism. This is a mistake. The psyche has two 
important conditions. One is the environmental influence, 
and the other is the given fact of the psyche as it is born. As 
I told you yesterday, the psyche is by no means a tabula 
rasa. We are a definite mixture and combination of genes, 
and they are there from the very first moment of our life, 
and they give a definite character even to the little child. 
That is the subjective factor, looked at from the outside. 

Now if you look at it from the inside, it is just as if you 
were observing the world. When you observe the world 
you see people, you see houses, you see the sky, you see 
tangible objects. But when you observe yourself within, you 
see moving images, a world of images, generally known as 
fantasies. Yet these fantasies are facts. You see, it is a fact 
that a man has such and such a fantasy, such a tangible 
fact that when a man has a certain fantasy another man may 
lose his life. Or a bridge may be built — these houses were all 
fantasies. Everything you do here, all of the houses, every- 
thing was fantasy to begin with, and fantasy has a proper 
reality. This should not be forgotten, fantasy is not nothing. 
It is of course not a tangible object, but it is a fact neverthe- 
less. It is like a form of energy, despite the fact that we 
can't measure it. It is a manifestation of something, and that 
is a reality just as much as the peace treaty of Versailles, or 

17 Cf. Two Essays, pars. 56ft., and Psychological Types, CW 6, 
ch. X. 



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something like that. It no longer exists, you can't show it, 
but it has been a fact. 

So psychic events are facts, are realities, and when you ob- 
serve the stream of images within, you observe an aspect of 
the world, of the world within. Because the psyche, if you 
understand it as a phenomenon occurring in living bodies, 
is a quality of matter, just as our body consists of matter. 
We discover that this matter has another aspect, namely a 
psychic aspect. It is simply the world seen from within. It is 
just as though you were seeing into another aspect of matter. 
This is an idea that is not my invention. Old Democritus 
talked of the spiritus insertus atomis, the spirit inserted in 
atoms. That means the psyche is a quality which appears in 
matter. It doesn't matter whether we understand it or not, 
but that is the conclusion we come to if we draw conclusions 
without prejudices. 

And so, you see, the man who goes by the influence of the 
external world — say society or sense perceptions — thinks he 
is more valid because this is valid, this is real, and the man 
who goes by the subjective factor is not valid because the 
subjective factor is nothing. No, that man is just as well 
based, because he bases himself on the world from within. 
So he is quite all right even if he says, "Oh, it is nothing 
but my fantasy." Of course that is the introvert, and as the 
introvert is always afraid of the external world, he will be 
apologetic about it when you ask him. He will say, "Yes, of 
course, I know those are my fantasies," and he has always a 
resentment. And as the world in general, particularly Amer- 
ica, is extraverted as hell, the introvert has no place, because 
he doesn't know that he beholds the world from within. 
And that gives him dignity, that gives him certainty, be- 
cause, nowadays particularly, the world hangs by a thin 
thread, and that thread is the psyche of man. Suppose cer- 
tain fellows in Moscow lose their nerve or their common 
sense for a bit, then the whole world is in fire and flames. 
Nowadays we are not threatened by elemental catastrophes. 



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There is no such thing in nature as an H-bomb — that is all 
man's doing. We are the great danger. The psyche is the 
great danger. What if something goes wrong with the 
psyche? And so it is demonstrated in our day what the 
power of the psyche is, how important it is to know some- 
thing about it. But we know nothing about it. Nobody 
would give credit to the idea that the psychic processes of 
the ordinary man have any importance whatever. One 
thinks, "Oh, he is just what he has in his head. He is all 
from his surroundings." He is taught such and such a thing, 
believes such and such a thing, and particularly if he is well 
housed and well fed, then he has no ideas at all. And that's 
the great mistake, because he is just what he is born as, and 
he is not born as a tabula rasa but as a reality. 

One of the very common, I thin\, misconceptions of your 
wor\ among some writers in America is that they have 
characterized your discussion of introversion and extraver- 
sion as suggesting that the world is made up of only two 
kinds of people, introverts and extraverts. Would you like 
to comment on that? 

Well, Bismarck once said, "God preserve me from my 
friends, with my enemies I can deal alone!" You know 
what people are. They catch a word and then everything is 
schematized to fit that word. There is no such thing as a 
pure extravert or a pure introvert. Such a man would be in 
the lunatic asylum. They are only terms to designate a cer- 
tain penchant, a certain tendency. For instance, the tend- 
ency to be more influenced by environmental factors, or 
more influenced by the subjective factor, that's all. There 
are people who are fairly well balanced and are just as much 
influenced from within as from without, or just as little. 
And so with all the finer classifications, they are only points 
de repere, points for orientation. 

There is no such thing as a schematic classification. Often 
you have great trouble even to make out to what type a man 



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belongs, either because he is very well balanced or because 
he is very neurotic. When you are neurotic you always have 
a certain dissociation of personality. And then the people 
themselves don't know when they react consciously or when 
they react unconsciously. You can talk to somebody and 
you think he is conscious and knows what he says, and to 
your amazement you discover after a while that he is quite 
unconscious of it, doesn't know it. It is a long and pains- 
taking procedure to find out what a man is conscious of and 
what he is not conscious of, because the unconscious plays 
in him all the time. Certain things are conscious, certain 
things are unconscious, but you couldn't tell. 

Then this whole matter of extremes, introvert and extravert, 
is a sort of scheme to hang an idea on? 

My scheme of typology is only a scheme of orientation. 
There is such a factor as introversion, there is such a factor 
as extraversion. The classification of individuals means 
nothing, nothing at all. It is only the instrumentarium for 
the practical psychologist to explain, for instance, the hus- 
band to a wife or vice versa. It is very often the case — I 
might say it is almost a rule, but I don't want to make too 
many rules in order not to be schematic — that an introvert 
marries an extravert for compensation, or another type mar- 
ries the countertype to complement himself. For instance, a 
man who has made a certain amount of money is a good 
business man, but he has no education. His dream is, of 
course, a grand piano at home, artists, painters, singers or 
God knows what, and intellectual people, and accordingly 
he marries a wife of that type in order to have that too. Of 
course he has nothing of it. She has it, and she marries him 
because he has a lot of money. 

These compensations go on all the time. When you 
study marriages, you can see it easily. We alienists have to 
deal with a lot of marriages, particularly those that go 
wrong, because the types are too different sometimes and 



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they don't understand each other at all. You see, the main 
values of the extravert are anathema to the introvert, so he 
says, "To hell with the world, I think}" His wife interprets 
this as his megalomania. But it is just as if an extravert said 
to an introvert, "Now look here, fellow, these are the facts, 
this is reality!" And he's right. And the other type says, "But 
/ think!" and that sounds like nonsense to the extravert be- 
cause he doesn't realize that the other, without knowing it, 
is seeing an inner world, an inner reality. And he may be 
right, as he may be wrong, even if he based himself on God 
knows what solid facts. Take the interpretation of statistics, 
you can prove anything with statistics. What is more a fact 
than a statistic ? 



Of course, tied in with your typology of — quotes — "intro- 
version" and "extraversion" we know of your concepts of 
thinking, feeling, sensation, intuition, and it would be very 
interesting to have some expansion of these particular terms 
as related to the introvert-extravert dichotomy. 

Well, there is quite a simple explanation of those terms, 
and it shows at the same time how I arrived at such a typol- 
ogy. Sensation tells you that there is something. Thinking, 
roughly speaking, tells you what it is. Feeling tells you 
whether it is agreeable or not, to be accepted or rejected. 
And intuition— now there is a difficulty. You don't know, 
ordinarily, how intuition works. When a man has a hunch, 
you can't tell exactly how he got at that hunch, or where 
that hunch comes from. There is something funny about 
intuition. 

I will tell you a little story. I had two patients, the man 
was a sensation type, the woman was an intuitive type. Of 
course they felt attracted. So they took a little boat and went 
out on the lake of Zurich. And there were those birds that 
dive after fish, then after a while they come up again, and 
you can't tell where they will come up. And so they began 
to bet who would be the first to see the bird. Now you 



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would think that the one who observes reality very care- 
fully — the sensation type — would of course win out. Not at 
all. The woman won the bet completely. She was beating 
him on all points, because by intuition she knew it before- 
hand. How is that feasible? Sometimes, you know, you can 
really see how it works by finding out the intermediate 
links. Intuition is a perception by intermediate links, and 
you only get the result of that whole chain of associations. 
Sometimes you succeed in finding out, but more often you 
don't. 

So my definition is that intuition is a perception via the 
unconscious. That is as near as I can get. It is a very im- 
portant function, because when you live under primitive 
conditions a lot of unpredictable things are likely to happen. 
Then you need your intuition because you cannot possibly 
tell by your sense perceptions what is going to happen. For 
instance, you are traveling in a primeval forest. You can 
only see a few steps ahead. You go by the compass, perhaps, 
but you don't know what there is ahead. It is uncharted 
country. If you use your intuition you have hunches, and 
when you live under primitive conditions you are instantly 
aware of hunches. There are places that are favorable, there 
are places that are not favorable. You can't tell for your life 
what it is, but you'd better follow those hunches because 
anything can happen, quite unforeseen things. For instance, 
at the end of a long day you approach a river. You don't 
know that there is a river, and when you come to that river 
it is quite unexpected. For miles there is no human habita- 
tion. You cannot swim across, it is all full of crocodiles. So 
what? Such an obstacle hadn't been foreseen, but it may 
be you have had a hunch that you should remain in the 
least likely spot and wait for the following day when you 
can build a raft or something, or look for possibilities. 

You can also have intuitions — and this constantly hap- 
pens — in our jungle called a city. You can have a hunch that 
something is going wrong, particularly when you are driv- 



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ing an automobile. For instance, it is the day when nurses 
appear in the street. And they always try to get something 
interesting, like a suicide, you know — to be run over, that's 
more marvellous apparently. And then you get a peculiar 
feeling, and really, at the next corner there is a second nurse 
that runs in front of the automobile. Duplication of cases, 
that is a rule, you know; such chance happenings come in 
groups. 

So you see, we constantly have warnings, hints, that con- 
sist perhaps in a slight feeling of uneasiness, uncertainty, 
fear. Under primitive conditions you would pay attention 
to these things, they mean something. With us in our man- 
made, absolutely — apparently — safe conditions, we don't 
need that function so very much, yet we still use it. You 
will find the intuitive types among bankers, Wall Street 
men; they follow their hunches, and so do gamblers of all 
descriptions. You find the type very frequently among 
doctors, because it helps them in their prognoses. Sometimes 
a case can look quite normal, as it were, and you don't 
foresee any complications, yet an inner voice tells you, Now 
watch out, here is something not quite right. You can't tell 
why or how, but we have a lot of subliminal sense percep- 
tions, and from them we probably draw a good deal of our 
intuitions. That is perception by way of the unconscious, 
and you can observe it with intuitive types. 

Intuitive types very often do not perceive by their eyes 
or by their ears, they perceive by intuition. For instance, it 
once happened that I had a woman patient in the morning 
at nine o'clock. I often smoke my pipe and have a certain 
smell of tobacco in the room, or a cigar. And she came and 
said, "But you begin earlier than nine o'clock" — earlier, I 
said, you call that early? — "you must have seen somebody at 
eight o'clock." I said, "How do you know?" There had 
been a man there that had come at eight o'clock already. 
And she said, "Oh, I just had a hunch that there must have 
been a gentleman with you this morning." I said, "Hum, 



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but how do you know it was a gentleman?" And she said, 
"Oh well, I just had the impression, the atmosphere was 
just like a gentleman here." And all the time, you know, the 
ash tray was under her nose, and there was a half-smoked 
cigar! But she wouldn't notice it. The intuitive is a type 
that doesn't see, doesn't see the stumbling block before his 
feet, but he smells a rat for ten miles. 

More specifically, what would be an example of the differ- 
ence between an intuitive extrovert and an intuitive in- 
trovert? 

Well, you know, you have chosen a somewhat difficult 
ease, because one of the most difficult types is the intuitive 
introvert. The intuitive extravert you find among hunters, 
bankers, gamblers; that is quite understandable. But the 
introvert variety is more difficult because he has intuitions 
about the subjective factor, the inner world. That is very 
difficult to understand because what he sees are most un- 
common things, and he doesn't like to talk about them if 
he is not a fool. He would spoil his own game by telling 
what he sees, because people won't understand it. 

Once I had a patient, a young woman about 27 or 28. 
Her first words were when I had seated her, "You know, 
doctor, I come to you because I have a snake in my abdo- 
men." "What ?!" "Yes, a snake, a black snake coiled up right 
in the bottom of my abdomen." I must have made a rather 
bewildered face at her, for she said, "You know, I don't 
mean it literally, but I should say it was a snake, a snake." 
In our further conversation a little later — that was about 
the middle of her treatment which lasted only for ten con- 
sultations — she said she had foretold me, "I'll come ten 
times, and then it will be all right." "But how do you 
know?" I asked. "Oh, I've got a hunch." And really, about 
the fifth or sixth consultation she said, "Oh, doctor, I must 
tell you, the snake has risen, it is now about here." Hunch! 
Then on the tenth day I said, "Now this is our last con- 



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sultation. Do you feel cured?" And she said, beaming, 
"You know, this morning it came up, it came out of my 
mouth, and the head was golden." Those were her last 
words. 

Now that same girl — when it comes to reality — came to 
me because she couldn't hear the step of her feet any more, 
because she walked on air, literally. She couldn't hear it, 
and that frightened her. When she came to see me I asked 
for her address, and she said, "Oh, pension so and so. Well, 
it is not called a pension exactly but it is a sort of pension." 
I had never heard of it. "Now that is curious," I said, "I 
have never heard of that place." "Well, it's a very nice 
place. Curiously enough, there are only young girls there, 
very nice and very lively young girls, and they have a merry 
time. I often wish they would invite me to their merry 
evenings." I said, "And do they amuse themselves all 
alone?" "Oh, no, they have plenty of young gentlemen com- 
ing in, and they have a beautiful time, but they never 
invite me." It turned out that it was a private brothel. She 
was a perfectly decent girl, you know, of a very good 
family, not from here. She had found that place, I don't 
know how, and she was utterly unaware that they were 
all prostitutes. And I said, "For heaven's sake, you fell into 
a very dark place! You hurry up and get out of it." 

That was her sensation, she didn't see reality, but she had 
hunches like anything, and they came off. Such a person 
cannot possibly speak of her experiences because every- 
body would think she's absolutely crazy. I myself was quite 
shocked, and I thought, For heaven's sake, is that a case of 
schizophrenia? You don't hear that kind of talk, but she 
assumed that the old man, of course, knows everything, and 
even understands that kind of language. So you see, if the 
introverted intuitive were to speak of what he really per- 
ceives, practically no one would understand him. They 
learn to keep things to themselves, and you hardly ever 



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hear them talking of these things. That is a great disad- 
vantage, but it is an enormous advantage in another way, 
not to speak of the experiences they have in that respect 
and also in their human relations. For instance, they come 
into the presence of somebody they don't know, and sud- 
denly they have inner images, and these images give them 
more or less complete information about the psychology of 
the partner. It can also happen that they come into the 
presence of somebody they don't know at all, not from 
Adam, and they know an important piece out of the 
biography of that person, and are not aware of it, and they 
tell the story, and then the fat is in the fire. 18 So the in- 
troverted intuitive has in a way a very difficult life, al- 
though one of the most interesting lives, but it is often 
difficult to get into their confidence. 

Yes, because you say they are afraid people will thin\ they 
are sic\. 

The things that are interesting to them, or are vital to 
them, are utterly strange to the ordinary individual, and a 
psychologist should know of such things. When people 
make a psychology, as a psychologist ought to do, his very 
first question is, Is he extraverted or is he introverted ? They 
will look at entirely different things. Is he a sensation type, 
is he an intuitive type, is he a thinking or a feeling type? 
These things are complicated. They are still more compli- 
cated because the introverted thinker, for instance, is com- 
pensated by inferior, archaic, extraverted feeling. So an 
introverted thinker may be very crude in his feeling: the 
introverted philosopher who is always carefully avoiding 
women will be married by his cook in the end! [Laughter.] 

So we can take your introvert-extr avert category and de- 
scribe the introverted sensation type, the extraverted sensa- 

18 For an example from Jung's own biography see Memories, 
Dreams, Reflections, p. 51/61. 



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tion type, the introverted thinking type, and so on. In each 
case it does not stand for a real category but is simply a 
model that helps us to understand the individual. 

It is just a sort of skeleton to which you have to add the 
flesh. Or you could say it is like a country mapped out by 
triangulation points. That doesn't mean the country con- 
sists of triangulation points, it is only in order to have an 
idea of the distances. It is a means to an end. It only makes 
sense, such a scheme, when you deal with practical cases. If 
you have to explain an introverted intuitive husband to an 
extravert wife it is a most painstaking affair, because, you 
see, an extraverted sensation type is the furthest away from 
inner experiences and the rational functions. She adapts and 
behaves according to the facts as they are, and she is always 
caught by- those facts. She, herself, is those facts. But if the 
introvert is intuitive, to him that is hell, because as soon as 
he is in a definite situation he tries to find a hole where he 
can get out. Every given situation is just the worst that can 
happen to him. He is pinched and he feels caught, suffo- 
cated, chained. He must break those fetters because he is 
the man who will discover a new field. He will plant that 
field, and as soon as the young plants are coming up, he's 
finished, he's done, he's no more interested. He is all right, 
and others will reap what he has sown. When those two 
marry each other there is trouble, I assure you. 

Yes indeed. Now speaking of the intuitive type, you are of 
course familiar with the wor\ of J. B. Rhine at Du\e Uni- 
versity. Some of his wor\ in extrasensory perception, clair- 
voyance, and telepathy sounds quite a bit li\e your research 
into the intuitive function. Would you say that a person who 
has clairvoyance would be an intuitive type? 

That's quit probable. Or it can be a sensation type, say 
an extraverted sensation type who is very much influenced 
by the unconscious. He has introverted intuition in his un- 
conscious, you see. There are two groups, the rational and 



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the irrational. The rational group is thinking and feeling. 
The ideal thinking is a rational result, and so is feeling, it is 
a rational value. That is differentiated feeling. But sensation 
is necessarily irrational because it may not prejudice facts. 
The ideal perception of reality is that you have an accurate 
perception of things as they are, without additions or cor- 
rections. Intuition doesn't look at things as they are; that 
is prison, that is anathema to the intuitive. He looks, oh, 
ever so shortly at things as they are and makes off into an 
unconscious process, at the end of which he has seen some- 
thing nobody else would have seen. The people who yield 
the best results [in Rhine's experiments] are always those 
who are introverted, or where introverted intuition comes 
in. But that is a side aspect of it, it is not interesting. There 
is another question which is far more interesting, and that 
is the terms they use. Rhine himself uses them — precogni- 
tion, telepathy, etc. They mean nothing at all. They are 
words, but he thinks he has said something when he says 
"telepathy." 

The word itself is not a description of the process. 
Not a description. It means nothing, nothing at all. 

Now of course, a lot of the things you are describing I 
thin\ scientists will say are due to chance. Chance occur- 
rences, chance factors. Rhine uses statistical methods, and he 
reports these occurrences more often than would be expected 
by chance. 

Well, you see, he proves that it is more than chance, it is 
statistically graspable. That is the important point and it 
hasn't been contradicted. There was some such proof to the 
contrary in England, and they said, Oh, Rhine, that's noth- 
ing but guesswork. Exactly! That's it, it is guessing, what 
you call guessing. A hunch is guessing; a definite guess, 
you know, is a hunch — just that. But it means nothing. 
The point is that [with Rhine the result] is more than 



3*3 



1957 

merely probable, it is beyond chance. That is the great prob- 
lem. But people hate problems they can't deal with, and they 
can't deal with this one. Even Rhine very often does not 
understand our argument in this respect, because it is a 
relativation — now I am going to say something which in 
these sacred rooms is anathema — a relativation of time and 
space through the psyche. That's the fact, and that is what 
Rhine has made evident. Now swallow that! Well, that's 
difficult. 

May I go a little further into some of your recent wor\, 
which is indeed very profound, and is not too well \nown to 
many of our students — 

Of course not! Nobody reads these things, only the gen- 
eral public, Because my books are at least sold. [Laughter.] 

I'm referring to the concept of synchronicity — 19 
Uh-huh! 

which would have some relevance at this point in our dis- 
cussion. Would you care to comment a little bit? 

That is awfully complicated, one wouldn't know where 
to begin. Of course this kind of thinking started long ago, 
and when Rhine brought out his results I thought now we 
have at least a more or less dependable basis to argue on. 
But the argument was not understood at all because it is 
really very difficult. When you observe the unconscious 
you come across plenty of instances of a very peculiar kind 
of parallel events. For example, I have a certain thought, or 
a certain subject is occupying my attention and my interest. 
At the same time something else happens, quite independ- 
ently, that portrays just that thought. Now this is utter 
nonsense, you know, looked at from the causal point of 
view. That it is not nonsense is made evident by the results 
of Rhine's experiments. There is a probability, it is some- 
thing more than chance that such an event occurs. 

19 Cf. "Synchronicity. An Acausal Connecting Principle," CW 8. 



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I have never made statistical experiments except one in 
the way Rhine did. I made it for another purpose.*" But I 
have come across quite a number of cases where it was most 
astonishing to find that two causal chains happened at the 
same time, but independently of each other, so that you 
could say they had nothing to do with each other. Of course 
that's quite clear. For instance, I speak of a red car and at 
that moment a red car comes along. I hadn't seen it, it was 
impossible because it was behind the building until just this 
moment when the red car appears. Now this seems mere 
chance. Yet the Rhine experiment proves that these cases 
are not mere chance. Of course many of these things are 
occurrences to which we cannot apply such an argument, 
otherwise we would be superstitious. We can't say, "This 
car has appeared because some remarks had been made 
about a red car. It is a miracle that the red car appears." 
It is not, it is chance, just chance. But these "chances" hap- 
pen more often than chance allows, and that shows there 
is something behind it. Rhine has a whole institute with 
many co-workers and has the means. We have no means 
here, you know, to make such experiments, otherwise I 
would probably have done them. But it is just physically im- 
possible. So I had to content myself with the observation of 
facts. 

Third Interview 

Dr. Jung, one question which is quite important as we at- 
tempt to understand the psychology of the individual cen- 
ters around the problem of motivation, why the person 
does what he does. To some degree you have already talked 
about that when you discussed the archetypes. However, 
to go further into this problem, earlier when we spo\e of 
the libido you felt it was more than just sexual energy. You 
thought it could be something much broader. Now you 

20 "An Astrological Experiment," ibid., pp. 459ft. 



3*5 



1957 



have certain principles concerning psychic energy which are 
very provocative, and one of these principles, I believe, you 
refer to as the principle of entropy. 

Well I only allude to it, 21 you know. The main thing is 
the standpoint of energetics as applied to psychic phenom- 
ena. There you have no possibility of exact measurement, 
so it always remains a sort of analogy. Freud uses the term 
"libido" in the sense of sexual energy, and that is not quite 
correct. If it is sexual, then it is a power like electricity or 
any other manifestation of energy. Now energy is a con- 
cept by which you try to express by analogy all the mani- 
festations of power. They have a certain quantity, a certain 
intensity, there is a flow in one direction tending towards 
the ultimate suspension of opposites, for instance "high" 
and "low." A lake on a mountain flows downwards until all 
the water is down, then it is finished. 

Something similar is the case in psychology. We get tired 
from intellectual work, or from consciously living, and then 
we must sleep to restore our powers. It is just as if in the 
night the water were pumped from a lower level to a higher 
level so that we can work again the next day. Of course that 
simile is lame too, so it is only in an analogous way that we 
use the term "energy." I used it because I wanted to express 
the fact that the power manifestation of sexuality is not the 
only power drive, say the drive to conquer or the drive to 
aggression. There are many forms, you see. Take the ani- 
mals, the way they build their nests, or the urge of traveling 
birds that migrate. They are all driven by a sort of energy 
manifestation, and the meaning of the word "sexuality" 
would be entirely lost if everything were that. Freud him- 
self saw that it was not applicable everywhere, and later on 
he corrected himself by assuming that there are also ego 
drives. That is something else, that's another manifestation. 
Now in order not to presume or to prejudice things I speak 

21 "On Psychic Energy," ibid., pp. 25ft. 

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simply of energy, a quantity of energy that can manifest 
itself via sexuality or any other instinct. That is the main 
feature, not the existence of one single power, because that 
is not warrantable. 

Another thing about motivation is that there seem to be 
two views in much of our American psychology today. 
One might be called an historical view, where we try to 
loo/^ at the history and development of the individual for 
answers as to why he is doing a certain thing at a certain 
moment. Then there is another view postulated by Kurt 
Lewin, which is a sort of field theory. He things that his- 
tory, the past, is not as important in motivation as all the 
conditions which affect the individual at the moment. We 
can predict behavior by \nowing these conditions and 
don't have to go bac\ into the past to understand why a 
person does what he does. Do you thin\ Lewin's "present 
field" theory has any merit? 

Well, obviously. I always insist that even a chronic neuro- 
sis has its true cause in the present moment — now. 22 You 
see, neurosis is made every day by the wrong attitude the 
individual has, but that wrong attitude is a historical fact 
and needs to be explained historically by things that have 
happened in the past. Yet that is one-sided too, because all 
psychological facts are oriented not only to a cause but also 
to a goal. They are, in a sense, teleological because they 
serve a certain purpose. The wrong attitude can have orig- 
inated, in a certain way, long ago, but it wouldn't exist to- 
day any more if there were not immediate causes and im- 
mediate purposes that keep it alive. And so a neurosis can 
be finished suddenly on a certain day in spite of all causes. 
Further, at the beginning of the war one observed that 
cases of compulsion neurosis which had lasted for many 
years suddenly were cured because they got into an entirely 

22 Cf. "The Theory of Psychoanalysis," CW 4, pp. 1575. 



3*7 



1957 

new condition. It is like a shock, you see that with shock. 
Even schizophrenics can be vastly improved by a shock, 
because that's a new condition; it is a very shocking thing 
that shocks them out of their habitual attitude. They are no 
longer in it, and then the whole thing collapses, the whole 
system that has been built up for years. 

So in wording with a patient, you would not say it is ab- 
solutely imperative to have to reformulate all of his past 
life in order to help him with his present neurosis? 

There is no system about it in therapy. In therapy you 
treat the patient as he is in the present moment, irrespective 
of causes and such things. That is all more or less theoreti- 
cal. There are cases who know just as much about their 
own neurosis as I do, in a way. In such cases I can start right 
away with posing the problem. For instance, there is a case, 
a professor of philosophy, and he imagines that he has 
cancer. 23 He shows me several dozen X-ray plates that 
prove there is no cancer. He says, "Of course I have no 
cancer, but nevertheless I am afraid I could have one. I've 
consulted ever so many surgeons and they all assure me 
there is none, and I know there is none, but I might have 
one, you see, and that's enough." Such a case can stop 
from one moment to the next, he simply stops thinking 
such a foolish thing. But that is exactly what he cannot do. 

In such a case I say, "Well, it's perfectly plain to you that 
it's nonsense what you believe. Now why are you forced 
to believe such nonsense? What is the power that makes 
you think such a thing against your free will? You know 
it is nonsense, so why should you think it?" It's like a pos- 
session, you know. Exactly like a demon in him that makes 
him think like that, in spite of the fact that he doesn't 
want to. That is the problem for an intellectual man. Then 
I say, "Now you don't know, you have no answer. I have 
no answer. So what are we going to do?" I say, "Now we 

23 Cf. "Psychology and Religion," pp. ioff. 

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The Houston Films 

will see what you dream, because a dream is the manifesta- 
tion of the unconscious side." He has never heard of the 
unconscious side, so I must explain to him that he has an 
unconscious and that the dream is a manifestation of it, 
and if we succeed in analyzing the dream we might get an 
idea about that power that makes him think like that. In 
such a case one can begin right away with the analysis of 
dreams, and in all cases that are a bit serious. Mind you, 
this is not a simple case, it is a very serious and difficult case 
in spite of the simplicity of the phenomenology and the 
symptomatology. 

In all cases after the preliminaries, such as the history of 
the family, the whole medical anamnesis, etc., we come to 
that question, What is it in your unconscious that makes 
you wrong, that hinders you from thinking normally? 
Then we reach a point where we can begin with the ob- 
servation of the unconscious, and day by day we proceed 
by the data the unconscious produces. We discuss the dream 
and that gives a new surface to the whole problem. Then 
he will have another dream, and the next dream again 
gives an answer, because the unconscious is in a compensa- 
tory relation to consciousness, and after a while we get the 
full picture. And if he has the full picture and has the 
necessary moral stamina, well then he can be cured. But in 
the end it is a moral question whether a man applies what 
he has learned or not. 

Then in this situation the unconscious plays a very impor- 
tant part. But as you see it, what you have found in the 
dream is not necessarily an image or symbol of what has 
happened in the past? 

Oh no, not at all! It is just the symbol. The symbol, you 
see, is a special term. The symbolic expression in a dream 
is a manifestation of the situation of the unconscious, 
looked at from the unconscious. Suppose I tell you some- 
thing which is my personal subjective view, and if I ask 



3 r 9 



1957 

myself, "Now are you really quite convinced of it?" I must 
admit I have certain doubts— not in the moment when I tell 
you, but these doubts are in the unconscious. And when I 
have a dream about it, these doubts come to the forefront in 
my dreams. That is the way the unconscious looks at the 
thing, it is just as though it says, It is all very well what 
you are saying, but you omit entirely such and such a point. 

Now if the unconscious acts on the present situation, look- 
ing at this in broad motivational terms, this effect of the 
unconscious is not the result of repression in the way the 
orthodox psychoanalyst loo\s at it? 

No, it may be that what the unconscious has to say is so 
disagreeable that one prefers not to listen. And in most 
cases people would probably be less neurotic if they could 
admit these things. But these things are always a bit diffi- 
cult, or disagreeable, or inconvenient, or something of the 
sort. So there is always a certain amount of repression, but 
that is not the main thing. The main thing is that they are 
really unconscious. If you are unconscious about certain 
things that ought to be conscious, you are dissociated. Then 
you are a man whose left hand never knows what the right 
is doing and counteracts or interferes with the right hand. 
Such a man is hampered all over the place. 

Would you say that the unconscious of a particular indi- 
vidual who was raised in an entirely different culture, say 
in India, would be in many respects similar to the uncon- 
scious of another individual who, we'll say, had lived in 
Switzerland all his life? 

Well, that question is also complicated because when we 
speak of the unconscious we should almost say "which un- 
conscious?" Is it the personal unconscious which is charac- 
teristic of a particular individual? 

You have the personal unconscious as one kind of uncon- 
scious. 



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Yes. In the treatment of neurosis you have to do with that 
personal unconscious for quite a while, and only then do 
dreams come which show that the collective unconscious is 
being touched upon. As long as there is material of a per- 
sonal nature you have to deal with the personal unconscious. 
But when you get to a problem which is no more merely 
personal but also collective, you get collective dreams. 

The distinction between the personal unconscious and the 
collective unconscious, then, is that the personal would be 
more involved with the immediate life of the individual, 
and the collective would be universal, having the same ele- 
ments in all men? 

Yes. Every society has collective problems, collective con- 
victions, and so on. We are very much influenced by them. 
For instance, you belong to a certain political party, or pro- 
fess a certain creed, and that can be a serious determinant 
of your behavior. Now as long as a personal conflict doesn't 
touch upon it, the collective unconscious is no problem, it 
doesn't appear. But the moment you transcend your personal 
sphere and come to your impersonal determinants, say to 
a political question or any other social question which really 
matters to you, then you are confronted with a collective 
problem, and then you have collective dreams. 

/ wonder if it would be too presumptuous of me to as\ if 
you could thin\ of an actual case of a patient or a friend 
that would show us how the personal and the collective un- 
conscious were acting in his neurosis or in a problem he may 
have had. 

Well you see, there is an enormous amount of personal 
dreams and I couldn't possibly tell you just one from such 
an embarras de richesse. There are millions of personal 
dreams that simply deal with your relation to your father, 
or to your mother, or to your wife, and so on, with all sorts 
of individual variations. But suppose a patient comes to 
that deeper level, or that his conflict begins to get really 



321 



1957 

serious so that his mind might suffer, then he can have a 
collective dream in which clearly mythological motifs ap- 
pear. There are plenty of examples in the literature. I wrote 
a book, you know, called Psychology of the Unconscious, 24, 
about such dreams. 

I remember the case of a very learned man, very rational. 25 
He had of course a lot of personal problems, but they got 
so bad that he got into very disagreeable relations with his 
whole surroundings. He was a member of a society and he 
got into a brawl with the people of that society, it was really 
quite shocking. Now, he started with collective dreams. 
Suddenly he dreamt of things he had never in his life 
thought of before— mythological motifs, and he thought he 
was crazy, because he couldn't understand it at all, it was 
just as if the whole world were transformed. That is what 
you see in cases of schizophrenia, but this wasn't a case of 
schizophrenia. As examples you can take any of these col- 
lective dreams I have published, there are plenty. For the 
moment I cannot remember a suitable example. To make it 
clear I should have to tell a long story and then you would 
see what I mean, otherwise it makes no sense to give you 
something short. 

I told you the case of that intuitive girl who suddenly 
came out with the statement that she had a black snake 
in her belly. Well now, that is a collective symbol. That is 
not an individual fantasy, it is a collective fantasy. It is well 
known in India. She had nothing to do with India, but 
though it is entirely unknown to us we have it too, for we 
are all similarly human. So I even thought in the first mo- 
ment that perhaps she was crazy, but she was only highly 
intuitive. In India the serpent is at the basis of a whole phil- 
osophical system, of Tantrism; it is Kundalini, the Kun- 
dalini serpent. This is something known only to a few spe- 
cialists, generally it is not known that we have a serpent in 

24 Revised as Symbols of Transformation, CW 5. 

25 This case forms Part II of Psychology and Alchemy, CW 12. 



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The Houston Films 

the abdomen. That is a collective dream or a collective 
fantasy. 

In the day to day life of the individual, is it possible that 
things that trouble him and cause tension lead to repression, 
and these become part of the personal unconscious? 

Yes, but he doesn't repress consciously always. These 
things disappear, simply, and Freud explains that by an act 
of repression. But you can prove that these things have 
never been conscious before. They simply don't appear, and 
you don't know why they don't appear. Of course, apres le 
coup, you can say that is why they didn't appear, they were 
disagreeable or incompatible with one's conscious views, 
one's conscious attitude. But that is afterwards, you couldn't 
predict it. 

So you see, these things that have an emotional tone, they 
are partially autonomous, they can appear or, on the con- 
trary, not appear. They can disappear at will, not of the 
subject, but of their own, though you can also repress them. 
It is the same with projections. People say, One makes 
projections. It's nonsense, one doesn't make them, one finds 
them. They are already there, because here the unconscious 
is not conscious, but there it is conscious, in my brother. 
There I see the beam in my own eye as a mote in my 
brother's eye. It is right there because I am unconscious of 
the beam in my own eye. And so these disappearances, or 
so-called repressions, are just like projections. Instead of 
being projected into somebody or something outside, they 
are introjected. But you are not the one that is doing it, they 
are already unconscious. There are cases [of conscious repres- 
sion], sure, but I should say the majority aren't repressions. 
That was my first point of difference with Freud. I saw in 
the association experiment that certain complexes are quite 
definitely not repressed. They simply won't appear. Because, 
you see, the unconscious is real, it is an entity, it works by 
itself, it is autonomous. 



323 



1957 

So looking at the so-called defense mechanisms, projection, 
rationalization, etc., you would differ from the orthodox 
psychoanalytic view in that you would not say they are 
developed by way of repression as a means of defending the 

ego? 

Yes, take the example of that serpent. That never had 
been repressed, otherwise it would have been conscious to 
her. On the contrary it was unconscious to her and appeared 
only in her fantasy, quite spontaneously. She didn't know 
how she came to it. She said, Well, I just saw it. 

Some orthodox psychoanalysts might have said it was a 
phallic symbol. 

Yes, of course, but you can say anything, you know. You 
can say a, church spire is a phallic symbol, but when you 
dream of a penis, what is that? You know what an analyst 
said, one of the orthodox, the old guard, he said, "In this 
case the censor has not functioned." Now, you call that a 
scientific explanation? [Laughter.] 

Very interesting, Dr. Jung, very interesting indeed. Now 
another concept related to motivational development is the 
process of individuation, which you frequently refer to in 
your writings. Would you care to comment on this process 
of psychic development towards a whole, a totality? 

Well, you know, that is something quite simple. Take an 
acorn, put it in the ground, it grows and becomes an oak. 
That is man. Man develops from an egg, and grows into the 
whole man, and that is the law that is in him. 

So you thin\ psychic development is in many ways li\e 
biological development? 

It is a fact that people develop psychically on the same 
principle as they develop in the body. Why should we as- 
sume it is a different principle? It is really the same kind of 
evolutionary behavior as the body shows. Take those ani- 
mals that have specially differentiated anatomical charac- 



324 



The Houston Films 

teristics, those of the teeth, or something like that. Well, 
those characteristics are in accordance with their psychic 
behavior, or their psychic behavior is in accordance with 
those organs. 

So as you see it there is no need to bring in other theories to 
explain psychic development? 

The psyche is no different from the living being, it is the 
psychic aspect of the living being. It is even the psychic 
aspect of matter, a quality of matter [. . .] I couldn't discuss 
the [physical] implications. 

Well, you yourself have a background in physics- 
Nothing to speak of. 

Reading your work one is aware that you know archaeol- 
ogy, anthropology — 

Well, inasmuch as my work is concerned with it, but I 
have no mathematical gifts, you know. You cannot get a 
real knowledge or understanding of nuclear physics without 
a good deal of mathematics, higher mathematics. There I 
only have a certain relation with it on the epistemological 
questions. Modern physics is truly entering the sphere of 
the invisible and intangible. 

It is in reality a field of probabilities, you know, that is 
exactly the same as the unconscious. I have often discussed 
this with Professor Pauli. 26 He is a nuclear physicist, and to 
my amazement I found that they have terms which are used 
in psychology too, and simply on account of the fact that we 
are entering a sphere— the one from without, and we from 
within— which is unknown. That's the reason for the par- 
leys between psychology and higher mathematics. For in- 
stance, we use the term "transcendent function." 27 Now the 

29 Wolfgang Pauli, awarded the Nobel Prize, d. 1958. His paper 
"The Influence of Archetypal Ideas on the Scientific Theories of 
Kepler" appears in Jung and Pauli, The Interpretation of Nature 
and the Psyche (1955). 

2T Cf. "The Transcendent Function," CW 8. 



325 



1957 

transcendental function is a mathematical term for the 
function of irrational and imaginary numbers. That is 
higher mathematics with which I have nothing to do. But 
we come to the same terminology. 

When you spoke of Dr. Einstein in your earlier discussion, 2 * 
you were saying that he more or less tried out some of his 
ideas on you. Did you ever suggest the possibility that rela- 
tivity might apply to psychic functions? 

Well, you know how it is when a man is so concentrated 
on his own ideas. And when he is a mathematician on top 
of everything, you are not welcome. 

What year was it that you were friends with Einstein? 

I wouldn't call myself a friend, I was simply the host. I 
tried to listen and to understand, so there was little chance 
to insert any of my own ideas. 

Was this after he had formulated his relativity theory? 

It was just when he was working on it, right in the begin- 
ning. It was very interesting, very interesting. 

In your dealings with Professor Toynbee, have you gotten 
rather interested in his ideas of history? 

Ah yes, his ideas about the life of civilizations and the 
way they are ruled by archetypal forms. Toynbee has seen 
what I mean by the historical function of archetypal de- 
velopments. That is a mighty important determinant of 
human behavior that lasts for centuries or for thousands of 
years. It expresses itself in symbols, sometimes symbols you 
would think nothing of at all. You know that Russia, the 
Soviet Republics, have that symbol of the red star. It is a 
five-rayed red star. America has the five-rayed white star. 

28 As the reader may have observed, there has been no previous 
reference to Einstein. .Such a reference may be among the passages 
cut out of the tape, or it may have been made to Prof. Evans in 
private conversation. Cf. "The Tavistock Lectures," CW 18, par. 140. 



326 



The Houston Films 

They are enemies, they can't come together. Now you see 
in the Middle Ages, in alchemy, for at least two thousand 
years the red and the white were the royal pair, ultimately 
destined to marry each other. 

/ see. Very interesting. Very, very interesting. 

America is a sort of matriarchy, most of the money is in 
the hands of women. And Russia is the land of the little 
father, it's a patriarchy. So the two are mother and father. 
In the Middle Ages they were called the white woman, the 
"femina Candida," and the "servus rubeus," the red slave. 
The two lovers have quarrelled with each other! 29 
[Laughter.] 

Now after this very pleasant little digression I would like to 
as\ you about something that seems to be a very funda- 
mental part of your writing, and that is the term "mandala." 
I would be most interested to have your observations on this. 

The mandala is just one typical archetypal form. 30 It is 
what they called in alchemy the quadratura circuli, the 
square in the circle or the circle in the square. It is an age- 
old symbol that goes right back to the prehistory of man. 
It is found all over the earth and it expresses either the deity 
or the self. These two terms are psychologically very much 
related — which doesn't mean that I believe that God is the 
self or that the self is God. I simply state that there is a 
psychological relation between them. There is plenty of 
evidence for this. 

The mandala is a very important archetype. It is the 
archetype of inner order, and it is always used in that sense, 
either to make an arrangement of the many, many aspects 
of the universe, a world scheme, or to make a scheme of our 
psyche. It expresses the fact that there is a center and a 
periphery, and it tries to embrace the whole. It is the 

29 Cf. "Flying Saucers," par. 790. 

30 Cf. "Concerning Mandala Symbolism," CW 9, Part I. 

327 



1957 



symbol of wholeness. So you see, when during the treatment 
there is a great disorder and chaos in a man's mind, this 
symbol can appear in the form of a mandala in a dream, or 
else he makes imaginary, fantastical drawings, or something 
of that sort. The mandala appears spontaneously as a com- 
pensatory archetype, bringing order, showing the possibility 
of order. It denotes a center which is not coincident with the 
ego but with the wholeness which I call the self — this is the 
term for wholeness. I am not whole in my ego, my ego is a 
fragment of my personality. The center of a mandala is not 
the ego, it is the whole personality, the center of the whole 
personality. The mandala plays a very great role in the East, 
but in our Middle Ages equally. Then it got lost, and was 
thought of merely as a sort of allegorical, decorative motif. 
But as a- matter of fact it is a highly important and highly 
autonomous symbol that appears in dreams and so on, or in 
folklore. We could easily say that it is the main archetype. 

Speaking of this totality which as you say is a sort of unified 
self, sometimes we try in psychology to start from whatever 
totality does exist in the individual and to loo\ into the 
underlying motivation, and we have recently used a great 
deal of what we call "projective tests." We all know you 
played a major role in developing this point of view with 
your word association method. What are the ingredients of 
the word association test? What is involved in the use of it? 
You mean the practical use of it? 

Yes. 

Oh well, you see, in the beginning when I was a young 
man I was of course completely disoriented with patients. 
I didn't know where to begin or what to say, and the 
association experiment gave me access to their unconscious. 
I learnt about the things they did not tell me, and I got a 
deep insight into the things they did not know, and I 
discovered many things. 

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The Houston Films 

In other words, from these responses you discovered com- 
plexes, or emotional blocks — of course, this word "complex" 
originated with you and it's very widely used now — 

Yes, the gefiihlsbetonter Komplex, that is one of my 
terms. 

Did you hope from these complexes or emotional blocks to 
get at materials of the personal unconscious or the racial 
unconscious? 

In the beginning there was no question of a collective 
unconscious or anything like that. It was chiefly the ordinary 
personal complexes. 

/ see. You weren't expecting to get into such depths. 

Among hundreds of complex associations there might 
appear an archetypal element, but that wouldn't show par- 
ticularly. That is not the point. You know it is like the 
Rorschach, a superficial orientation. 

You knew Hermann Rorschach, I believe, did you not? 
No, he circumvented me as much as possible. 

But did you get to know him personally? 
No, I never saw him. 

In his terms "introtensive" and "extrotensive," of course, he 
is reflecting your conceptions of introversion and extra- 
version. 

Yes, but I was anathema because I had said it first, and 
that is unforgiveable. I should never have done it. 

So you really didn't have any personal contacts with 
Rorschach? 
No personal relation at all. 

Are you familiar with his test? 

Yes, I know it. But I never applied it because later on I 
didn't apply the association test any more, because it wasn't 
necessary. I learned what I had to learn from the exact 



329 



1957 

examination of psychic reactions. I think it is a very ex- 
cellent means. 

Would you recommend the practising psychiatrist, the clini- 
cal psychologist, to use projective tests like the Rorschach 
test? 

For the practical training of psychologists who do actual 
work with people, I think it is one of the best means of 
making them see how the unconscious works. It is exceed- 
ingly didactic. You can demonstrate repression and the 
amnestic phenomena, the way people cover up their emo- 
tions, and so on. It is like an ordinary conversation, but seen 
and measured in its principles. That is what makes it so 
interesting. You observe all the things you observe in a 
conversation. You ask people something and discuss certain 
things, and you observe little hesitations, mistakes in speech, 
certain gestures. All that comes into the foreground, and it 
is measurable, you know, in the experiment. And so I 
think I don't overrate the didactic value of it, I think very 
highly of it. And we still use it in the training of young 
alienists. Or, if I have a case that doesn't want to talk, I can 
make such an experiment and find out a lot of things 
through the experiment. I have, for instance, discovered a 
murder. 31 

Is that right? 
Yes. 

Would you like to tell us how this is done? 

You have that lie detector in the United States. Well, 
that is the association test I worked out with the psycho- 
galvanic phenomenon. 32 And we did a lot of work also with 

31 This may be the case discussed in "The Tavistock Lectures," 
CW 18, par. 108. Cf. also Memories, Dreams, Reflections, pp. 115ft./ 
nji. 

32 "Psychophysical Investigations wtih the Galvanometer and Pneu- 
mograph in Normal and Insane Individuals," CW 2. 

33° 



The Houston Films 

the pneumograph, to show the decrease in the volume of 
breathing under the influence of a complex. 33 That is one 
of the causes of tuberculosis, it arises from such a condition. 
Some people have a very shallow breathing, don't ventilate 
the apices of their lungs any more, and get tuberculosis. 
Half of the tubercular cases are psychic. 

This question of psychic tubercular cases, etc., gets us into a 
particularly interesting area of motivation that we're talk- 
ing a lot about in the United States, and I'm sure is of 
interest to you, as this is the whole area of psychosomatic 
medicine, 

I have seen a lot of astounding cures of tuberculosis, 
chronic tuberculosis, by analysis, where people learnt to 
breathe again. It would not help them if they had learned 
to breathe normally, but understanding what their com- 
plexes were, that helped them. 

When did you first become interested in the psychic factors 
of tuberculosis? Was it many years ago? 

I was an alienist to begin with, I was always interested, 
naturally. Presumably because I understood so little of it, 
or I noticed they understood so little. 

Right now we are becoming more and more interested in 
the very thing you are saying, how the emotional, uncon- 
scious personality factors can actually have an effect on the 
body. The classic example in the United States is the peptic 
ulcer. We believe this is a case where emotional factors have 
actually created the pathology. These ideas have been ex- 
tended into many other areas. It is felt that where there 
already is a pathology these emotional factors can intensify 
it. Many of our physicians say that sixty to seventy per cent 
of their patients do not have anything physically wrong with 
them, but instead have disorders of psychosomatic origin. 

33 "Further Investigations on the Galvanic Phenomenon and 
Respiration in Normal and Insane Individuals," CW 2. 

33 1 



1957 

Yes, that is well known for more than fifty years. But the 
question is how to cure them. 

Do you have any ideas as to why the patient selects this 
type of symptom? 

He doesn't select them, they happen to him. You could 
just as well ask when you are eaten by a crocodile, how 
you happened to select that crocodile. He has selected you. 
[Laughter.] 

Of course it means that, in a sense, you selected uncon- 
sciously — 
No, not even unconsciously. 

You don't believe there is any way of tracing in the per- 
sonality of the individual the reasons why— 

That is an extraordinary exaggeration of the importance 
of the subject, as if he were choosing such things. They get 
him. 

So even unconsciously there isn't this degree of freedom. 
But to get bac\ to psychosomatic medicine, recently it has 
hinted that cancer may have psychosomatic involvements. 
Yes, yes. 

And this doesn't surprise you? 

Not at all. We knew these things long ago, you know. 
Fifty years ago we already had these cases, ulcer of the 
stomach, tuberculosis, chronic arthritis, skin diseases. All 
are psychogenic under certain conditions. 

Even cancer? 

Well, you see, I couldn't swear, but I have seen cases 
where I wondered whether there was not a psychogenic 
reason for that particular ailment. It came too conveniently. 

And some of these studies in the United States show that 
Jewish women practically never get cancer in the vaginal 
region, but more often say in the breast region. 



332 



The Houston Films 

Well, many things can be found out about cancer, I'm 
sure. You see, to us it was always a question of how to treat 
these things, and anything is possible. Every disease has a 
psychological accompaniment, and it all depends — perhaps 
life depends — on whether you treat such a patient psycho- 
logically in the proper way or not. That can help tremen- 
dously, even if you cannot prove in the least that the disease 
in itself is psychogenic. Or you can have an infectious 
disease in a certain moment when you are in a psychic 
predicament, because then you are particularly accessible to 
an infection. Tonsillitis is a typical psychological disease, 
yet it is not psychological in its physical causation. It's just 
an infection. But why did you get it then? Well, it was just 
the psychological moment. When it is established and there 
is high fever and an abscess, you cannot cure it by psychol- 
ogy. Yet it is quite possible to avoid it by a proper psycho- 
logical attitude. 

So all this interest in psychosomatic medicine is pretty old 
stuff to you? 

These things were all known here long ago. For instance, 
there is the toxic aspect of schizophrenia. I published it fifty 
years ago, j ust fifty years ago, 34 and now everyone discovers 
it. You are far ahead in America with technological things, 
but in psychological matters and suchlike you are fifty years 
behind the times. You simply don't understand them, and 
that's a fact. I'm sorry, I don't want to offend you, that's a 
general collective statement, you are simply not yet aware 
of what there is. There are plenty more things than people 
have any idea of. I told you the case of that theologian who 
didn't even know what a hierosgamos was and thought it 
was an apparition. « Everyone who says I am a mystic is 
just an idiot. He doesn't understand the first word of 
psychology. 

34 Cf. "The Psychology of Dementia Praecox," CW 3, pp. 35L, 97L 

35 No previous reference. Cf. n. 28, above. 



333 



1957 

There is certainly nothing mystical about the statements you 
have just been making, Dr. Jung. Now to pursue this a little 
further, another development that falls right into line with 
this whole discussion of psychosomatic medicine has been 
the use of drugs to deal with psychological problems. A par- 
ticular development has been the so-called non-addictive 
drugs which began in France with chlorpromazine , reser- 
pine, serpentina, and a great variety of milder tranquillizers 
known by such trade names as Miltown and Equinal. They 
are now being administered very freely to patients by gen- 
eral practitioners and internists, not only to schizophrenics 
and others who are not approachable, but are being dis- 
pensed almost as freely as aspirins to reduce everyday ten- 
sions. 
It is very dangerous. 

Why do you think, it is dangerous? They say these drugs 
are non-addictive. 

It's just like the compulsion that is caused by morphine 
or heroin. It becomes a habit. You don't know what you 
are doing, you see, when you use such drugs. It is like the 
abuse of narcotics. 

But the argument is that these are not habit-forming; they 
are not addictive, not physiologically. 
Oh yes, that is what one says. 

But you feel that psychologically there is still addiction? 

Yes. There are many drugs that are not habit-forming 
like morphine, yet it becomes a psychic habit, and that is 
just as bad as anything else. 

Have you actually seen any patients or had any contact with 
individuals who have been taking these particular drugs, 
these tranquillizers? 

I can't say. You see with us there are very few. In Amer- 
ica, you know, there are all those little tablets and powders. 



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Happily enough we are not yet so far. You see, American 
life is, in a subtle way, so one-sided and so deracine, up- 
rooted, that you must have something to compensate the 
earth. You have to pacify your unconscious all along the 
line because it is in an absolute uproar, so at the slightest 
provocation you have a big moral rebellion. Look at the 
rebellion of modern youth in America, the sexual rebellion, 
and all that. The real natural man is just in open rebellion 
against the. utterly inhuman form of life. You are absolutely 
divorced, you know, from nature in a way, and that ac- 
counts for the drug abuse. 

But what about the treatment of seriously ill mental pa- 
tients? We have the problem of hospitalized patients, the 
schizophrenics, manic-depressives. Certain schizophrenics 
are so withdrawn that you can't deal with them. In many 
hospitals they have been using drugs like chlorpromazine 
and the patient comes bac\ to reality for a short time. I 
don't think most of our practitioners believe the drugs cure 
the patients in themselves, but at least they make the 
patient more amenable to psychotherapy. 

Yes, the only question is whether that amenability is a 
real thing or drug-induced. I am sure that any kind of sug- 
gestive treatment will have an effect, because the patients 
simply become more suggestible. You see, any drug or shock 
undermines the moral stamina, making these people acces- 
sible to suggestion. And then they can be led, they can be 
made into something, but it is not a very happy result. 

Fourth Interview 

Dr. Jung, I know our students would be very interested in 
your opinion concerning the kind of training and back- 
ground a psychologist should have. For example, there is 
one view that says he should be trained only in statistics and 
the rigorous scientific method, and this is the greatest tool 



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he can have. However, there may be more to this problem of 
studying the individual than this rather narrow type of 
training. Would you li\e to comment on the type of train- 
ing and background you thin\ should be required of an 
individual as he tries to understand the human organism? 
I don't quite understand what you mean. 

Just to be a little bit more specific, do you thin\ the hu- 
manities are important for the study of the individual? 

Well, o£ course, when you study human psychology you 
can't help noticing that man's psychology doesn't consist 
only of the ramifications of instinct in his behavior. These 
are not the only determinants, there are many others, and 
the study of man from his biological aspect only is quite 
insufficient. To understand human psychology it is abso- 
lutely necessary that you study man also in his social and 
general environment. You have to consider the fact that 
there are different kinds of societies, different kinds of na- 
tions, different traditions, and for that purpose it is abso- 
lutely necessary to treat the problem of the human psyche 
from many standpoints. Each is a very considerable task, 
naturally. 

Thus, after my association experiments, when I realized 
that there is obviously an unconscious, the question arose, 
Now what is this unconscious? Does it consist merely of 
remnants of conscious activities, or are there things that are 
practically forever unconscious? In other words, is the un- 
conscious a factor in itself? I soon came to the conclusion 
that the unconscious must be a factor in itself, because I 
observed, time and again, that people's dreams, or schizo- 
phrenic patients' delusions and fantasies, contain motifs 
which they couldn't possibly have acquired in our surround- 
ings. This is due to the fact, as I said earlier, that the child 
is not born a tabula rasa but is a definite mixture or combina- 
tion of genes, and although the genes seem to contain chiefly 
dynamic factors, arrangeurs of certain types of behavior, 

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they also have a tremendous importance for the arrange- 
ment of the psyche, as soon as the psyche appears, naturally. 
Before its appearance you cannot study it, but once it ap- 
pears it has certain qualities, it has a certain character, and 
that must necessarily depend on the elements born in the 
child. So, factors determining human behavior are born 
with the child and determine its further development. 

Now that is one side of the picture. The other side of the 
picture is that the individual lives in connection with others 
in certain surroundings that will influence the given com- 
bination of qualities. And that too is a very complicated 
factor, because the environmental influences are not merely 
personal. There are any amount of objective factors. The 
general social conditions, laws, convictions, ways of looking 
at things, of dealing with things, these are not of an arbi- 
trary character. They are historical. There are historical 
reasons why things are as they are. And as there are his- 
torical reasons for the qualities of the psyche that is formed, 
there is such a thing as the history of man's evolution in 
past aeons, and that shows that a real understanding of the 
psyche must consist in the elucidation of the history of the 
human race. The history of the mind, for instance, as of the 
biological data. 

So, when I wrote my first book on the psychology of the 
unconscious, I had already formed a certain idea of the 
nature of the unconscious. To me it was then a living 
remnant of the original history of man living in his sur- 
roundings — a very complicated picture. My material then, 
my empirical material, was supplied chiefly by lunatics, by 
cases of schizophrenia, and I had observed that there are, 
chiefly at the beginning of the disease, invasions of fan- 
tasies into conscious life, fantasies of an entirely unexpected 
sort, most bewildering to the patient. He is quite confused 
by these ideas and gets into a sort of panic because he never 
before had thought of such things; they are quite strange 
to him, and equally strange to his physician. You see the 



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alienist is equally dumfounded by the peculiar character of 
those fantasies. Therefore he says, That man is crazy. He is 
crazy to think such things, nobody thinks such things, and 
the patient agrees with him, and all the more he gets into a 
panic. So as an alienist I thought it was really the task of 
psychiatry to elucidate these things that broke into con- 
sciousness. These voices, these delusions. In those days— 
that is, mind you, more than forty or fifty years ago— I had 
no hope of being able to treat these cases or help them, but 
I had a very great scientific curiosity, and I wanted to know 
what these things really were. I thought that these things 
had a system, that they were not merely chaotic, decayed 
material, because there was too much sense in those 
fantasies. 

So what I did tnen was > I studied cases of psychogenic 
diseases, like hysteria, hysterical somnambulism, and such 
things, where the contents that came from the unconscious 
were in a readable condition and could be understood. And 
then I saw that, in contradistinction to the schizophrenics, 
the mental contents of hysterics were of a humanly under- 
standable character, they were even elaborate, dramatic, sug- 
gestive, insinuating, so one could make out a second per- 
sonality. Now this is not the case in schizophrenia. There 
the fantasies are, on the contrary, unsystematic, chaotic, and 
you cannot make out a proper second personality, apart 
from rare cases of a complicated nature. 

Now I knew of psychopathic cases, on the borderline 
between schizophrenia and hysteria, where ideas came up, 
delusions that were not exactly hysterical, because they were 
singularly difficult to understand, sort of strange, strange 
eruptions, and I thought that these cases could give me a 
better understanding. So I took the opportunity when 
Professor Flournoy, the old professor of psychology and 
philosophy at the university of Geneva, published a case of 
an American girl who had bestowed on him a series of half 
poetic and romantic fantasies. He published that material 

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without commenting on it. He gave it as an example of 
creative imagination. 36 Now, when I read those fantasies I 
saw this was exactly the material I needed. I was always a 
bit afraid to tell of my personal experiences with patients 
because I felt people might say it was merely suggestion, 
you know. I took that case because I surely had no hand in 
it. It was old Professor Flournoy, an authority, he was a 
friend of William James. I knew him personally very well, a 
fine old man, and he certainly wouldn't be accused of 
having influenced the patient. And that is the reason why I 
analyzed these fantasies. 

That case then became the subject of a whole book called 
Psychology of the Unconscious. It is now called Symbols of 
Transformation, and I have revised it after forty years. It 
needed it, because it was a first attempt. There I tried to 
show that there is a sort of unconscious — at that time I 
simply called it "the unconscious" — that clearly produces 
things which are historical and not personal. It was mytho- 
logical material, the nature of which was not understood 
either by Professor Flournoy or by the patient. And there I 
tried for the first time to produce a picture of the function- 
ing of the unconscious, a functioning which allowed certain 
conclusions to be drawn as to the nature of the unconscious. 

Writing that book cost me my friendship with Freud, 
because he couldn't accept it. To him the unconscious was a 
product of consciousness, and simply contained all the 
remnants; it was a sort of store-room where all the things 
consciousness had discarded were heaped up and left. To 
me the unconscious then was already a matrix, a basis of 
consciousness of a creative nature, capable of autonomous 
acts, autonomous intrusions into consciousness. In other 
words, I took the existence of the unconscious for a real 
fact, a real autonomous factor capable of independent action. 

38 "Quelques Faits d'imagination creatrice subconsciente," Ar- 
chives de psychologie (Geneva), V (1906), pp. 36-51. Translated 
in Symbols of Transformation, CW 5, appendix. 



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1957 

Now that was a psychological problem of the very first 
order, and it made me think furiously, because the whole of 
philosophy even in our day has not yet recognized that we 
have a counter-actor in our unconscious, that in our psyche 
there are two factors: consciousness is one, and there is 
another, equally important, the unconscious, that can 
interfere with consciousness any time it pleases. Of course I 
said to myself, "Now this is very uncomfortable, because I 
think I am the only master in my house." But I must admit 
there is another somebody in that house that can play tricks, 
and I have to deal with the unfortunate victims of that 
interference every day in my patients. 

So the next thing I wrote was in 1916, a disquisition on 
the relations between the ego and the unconscious. There I 
tried to formulate the experiences that are more or less regu- 
larly observable in cases where consciousness is exposed to 
unconscious data, to interferences or intrusions; where the 
unconscious is considered an autonomous factor that has to 
be taken seriously, and one doesn't undervalue it any more 
by assuming that it is nothing but a discarded remnant of 
consciousness. It is a factor in its own right, and a very 
important factor, because it can create the most horrible 
disturbances. That was the pamphlet I wrote; 37 it was 
published in French, and nobody understood it. I saw that 
the reason why nobody understood it was that nobody had 
had a similar experience, because the question hadn't been 
pursued that far. Nobody had taken the unconscious seri- 
ously and considered it as a real factor that can determine 
human behavior to a very considerable degree. 

So then I began an examination of human attitudes, how 
our consciousness functions. I couldn't help seeing, for in- 
stance, the difference between Freud and Adler, a typical 

8T "La Structure de l'inconscient," Archives de psychologic, XVI 
(1916), pp. 152-79. See "The Structure of the Unconscious," Appen- 
dix II in Two Essays, the original version of "The Relations between 
the Ego and the Unconscious" (ibid). 



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difference. 38 The one assumes that things evolve along the 
line of the sex instinct, the other assumes that things evolve 
along the line of the power drive. And there I was, in be- 
tween the two. I could see the justification for Freud's view, 
and could see the same for Adler, and I knew that there 
were plenty of other ways in which things could be en- 
visaged. And so I considered it my scientific duty to examine 
first the condition of the human consciousness. That is the 
originator of ways of envisaging; it is the factor that pro- 
duces attitudes, conscious attitudes towards certain phenom- 
ena. When you know, for instance, that there are people 
who see the difference between red and green, you take it 
for granted that everybody sees that difference. Not at all. 
There are cases of trichromatism, and so on. The one sees 
this, the other sees that, and I tried to find out what the 
principal differences were. 

That is the book about types. I saw first the introverted 
and extraverted attitudes, then the functional aspects, then 
which of the four functions is predominant. Now mind 
you, these four functions were not a scheme I had invented 
and applied to psychology. On the contrary, it took me quite 
a long time to discover that there is another type than the 
thinking type, as I thought my type to be — of course, that 
is human. It is not. There are other people who decide the 
same problems I have to decide, but in an entirely different 
way. They look at things in an entirely different light, they 
have entirely different values. There are, for instance, feel- 
ing types. And after a while I discovered that there are 
intuitive types. They gave me much trouble. It took me 
over a year to become a bit clearer about the existence of 
intuitive types. And the last, and the most unexpected, was 
the sensation type. And only later I saw that these are 
naturally the four aspects of conscious orientation. 

You see, you get your orientation, you get your bearings 

38 Cf. Two Essays, pars. 56ft. 



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in the chaotic abundance of impressions, by the four func- 
tions. If you can tell me of any other aspect by which you 
get your orientation I shall be very grateful. I haven't found 
more. I tried. But those are the four that covered the thing. 
The intuitive type, which is very little understood, has a 
very important function because he goes by hunches, he 
sees around corners, he smells a rat a mile away. He can 
give you perception and orientation in a situation where 
your senses, your intellect and your feeling are no good at 
all. When you are in an absolute fix, an intuition can show 
you the hole through which you can escape. That is a very 
important function under primitive conditions, or wherever 
you are confronted with vital issues you cannot master by 
rules or by logic. 

So, thrpugh the study of all sorts of human types, I came 
to the conclusion that there must be as many different ways 
of viewing the world. The aspect of the world is not one, 
it is many — at least 16, and you can just as well say 360. You 
can increase the number of principles, but I found the most 
simple way is the way I told you, the division by four, the 
simple and natural division of a circle. I didn't know the 
symbolism then of this particular classification. Only when 
I studied the archetypes did I become aware that this is a 
very important archetypal pattern that plays an enormous 
role. 

I also found that the study of types gives you a lead as to 
the personal nature of the unconscious, its personal quality 
in a given case. If you take an extravert you will find his 
unconscious has an introverted quality, because all the 
extraverted qualities are played out in his consciousness and 
the introverted are left in the unconscious; therefore it has 
introverted qualities, and with the functions it is the same. 
That gave me a lead of diagnostic value, it helped me to 
understand my patients. When I knew their conscious type 
I got an idea about their unconscious attitude. And since a 
neurotic is influenced as much by the unconscious as he is by 



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the conscious, he is influenced by another type, as it were. 
It is as if he were another type, and in certain cases it is 
almost impossible to say whether the individual is to be 
judged by his conscious quality or by his unconscious 
quality, because you cannot tell at first sight which is which. 
This helped me to understand the Freudian and the Adler- 
ian aspect. It gave me an important lead, also, as to the way 
an individual is going when he is under actual analytical 
treatment. Because there the point is that you try to inte- 
grate unconscious contents into consciousness, to confront 
the individual who has a definite conscious attitude with its 
unconscious content that acts against him in his neurosis. 
It is just as if another personality of the opposite type were 
influencing him or disturbing him. And so, in the course of 
the years, I got a great deal of empirical material about the 
peculiar way in which the conscious and unconscious con- 
tents interact. 

So through your typology you gradually developed a sort 
of psychology of opposites, where the conscious would reveal 
one side of the type and the unconscious would be the other 
side. This would be a very important way, then, of helping 
you to analyze and understand the individual. 

From a practical point of view, it is diagnostically quite 
important. The point I wanted to elucidate is that in an- 
alyzing a patient you make typical experiences. There is a 
typical way in which the integration of consciousness takes 
place. The ordinary way is that through the analysis of 
dreams you become acquainted with the contents of the 
unconscious. I already told you this. To begin with it is all 
personal material: subjective problems, the individual's dif- 
ficulties in adapting to environmental conditions, and so on. 
Now, it is a regular observation that when you talk to an 
individual and he gives you insight into his inner preoccu- 
pations, interests, emotions— in other words, hands over his 
personal complexes— you gradually get into a position of 



343 



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authority whether you like it or not. You become a point of 
reference, you are in possession of all the important items in 
a person's development. I remember, for instance, I analyzed 
a very well-known American politician, and he told me, 
oh, any amount of the secrets of his trade, and suddenly he 
jumped up and cried, "My God, what have I done! You 
know you could get a million dollars for what I have told 
you!" I said, "Well, I'm not interested. You can sleep in 
peace, I shall not betray you. I'll forget it within a fort- 
night." 

Now you see, that shows that the things people hand out 
are not merely indifferent things. When it comes to some- 
thing important, emotionally important, they hand out 
themselves. They hand out a big emotional value, as if they 
were handing over a large sum, as if they were trusting you 
with the administration of their estate, and they are entirely 
in your hands. Often I hear things that could ruin those 
people, utterly and permanently ruin them, things which 
would give me, if I should have any blackmailing tenden- 
cies, unlimited power over them. 

Now that, you see, creates an emotional relationship to 
the analyst, and that is what Freud called the transference, 
which is a central problem in analytical psychology. 39 It is 
just as if these people had handed over their whole exist- 
ence, and that can have very peculiar effects upon the indi- 
vidual. Either they hate you for it, or they love you for it, 
but you are never indifferent to them. When they hand out 
such material its context is associated with all the most 
important persons in the life of a patient. The most im- 
portant persons are usually father and mother — that comes 
up from childhood. The first troubles are with the parents 
as a rule. So in handing over your infantile memories about 
the father or about the mother, you also hand over the image 
of father and mother. Then it is just as if the analyst had 

39 Cf. "The Psychology of the Transference," CW 16. 



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taken the place of the father, or even of the mother. I have 
had quite a number of male patients who called me "Mother 
Jung," because they handed over the mother to me, curi- 
ously enough. But that's quite irrespective of the personality 
of the analyst. It is simply disregarded. He functions as if 
he were the mother, or as if he were the father, the central 
authority. That is what one calls transference, a typical 
instance of projection. Freud doesn't exactly call it projec- 
tion, he calls it transference. That is an allusion to the old 
and superstitious idea of handing over a disease, transferring 
the disease to an animal or laying the sin upon a scapegoat, 
and the scapegoat takes it out into the desert and makes it 
disappear. So the patients hand themselves over in the hope 
that I can swallow that stuff and digest it for them. I am in 
loco parentis and have a high authority. Naturally I am also 
persecuted by the corresponding resistances, by all the mani- 
fold emotional reactions they have had against their parents. 

Now that is the structure you have to work through first 
in analyzing the situation, because the patient in such a 
condition is not free, he is a slave. He is utterly dependent 
on the analyst, like a patient with an open abdomen on the 
operating table. He is in the hands of the surgeon, for better 
or worse, and so the thing must be finished. This means we 
have to work through that condition in the hope of reaching 
a situation where the patient is able to see that I am not the 
father, not the mother, that I am an ordinary human being. 
Everybody would naturally suppose such a thing to be 
possible, that the patient could arrive at such an insight if he 
or she is not a complete idiot, that they could see I am just a 
doctor and not that emotional figure of their fantasies. But 
that is very often not the case. 

I once had a very intelligent young woman patient, a 
student of philosophy with a very good mind. 40 One might 
easily think she would see I was not the parental authority, 

*° This case is discussed in Two Essays, pars. 2o6ff. 



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1957 

but she was utterly unable to get out of this delusion. In 
such a case one always has recourse to the dreams. It is just 
as if one were asking the unconscious, Now what do you say 
about such a condition? She says through the conscious, 
"Of course I know you are not my father, but I just feel like 
that, it is like that, I depend upon you." Then I say, "Now 
we will see what the unconscious says." 

The unconscious now produces dreams in which I really 
assume a very curious role. In her dreams she was a little 
infant, sitting on my knees, and I held her in my arms. I 
was a very tender father to the little girl, you know, and 
more and more her dreams became emphatic in that respect. 
I was a sort of giant and she was a very little, frail human 
thing, quite a little girl in the hands of an enormous being. 
And the last dream of that series (I cannot tell you all the 
dreams) was that I was out in the midst of nature, standing 
in a field of wheat, an enormous field of wheat that was 
ripe for harvesting. I was a giant and I held her in my arms 
like a baby, and the wind was blowing over that field of 
wheat. Now you know, when the wind is blowing it makes 
waves in the wheatfield, and with these waves I swayed— 
like that— as if I were putting her to sleep. And she felt as 
if she were in the arms of a god, of the Godhead, and I 
thought, "Now the harvest is ripe, and I must tell her." And 
I told her, "You see, what you want and what you are 
projecting into me, because you are not conscious of it, is 
the idea of a deity you don't possess. Therefore you see it in 
me." 

That clicked. Because, you know, she had a rather intense 
religious education — of course it all vanished later on and 
something disappeared from her world. The world became 
merely personal, and that religious conception of the world 
no longer existed, apparently. But the idea of a deity is not 
an intellectual idea, it is an archetypal idea Therefore you 
find it practically everywhere under one name or another. 
You know even if it has the name "mana" it is an all- 



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powerful, extraordinary effect or quality, even if it is not 
personal at all. So she suddenly became aware of an entirely 
pagan image that comes fresh from the archetype. She 
didn't have the idea of a Christian God, or of an Old 
Testament Yahweh. It was a pagan god, a god of nature, of 
vegetation. He was the wheat himself, he was the spirit of 
the wheat, the spirit of the wind, and she was in the arms 
of that numen. 

Now that is the living experience of an archetype. It made 
a tremendous impression on that girl, and instantly it 
clicked. She saw what she really was missing, that missing 
value which she projected into me, making me indispensable 
to her. And then she saw that I was not indispensable, be- 
cause, as the dream says, she is in the arms of that archetypal 
idea. That is a numinous experience, and that is the thing 
people are looking for, an archetypal experience that gives 
them an incorruptible value. 

You see, they depend upon outer conditions, they depend 
upon their desires, their ambitions. They depend upon other 
people because they have no value in themselves. They have 
nothing in themselves. They are only rational, and they are 
not in possession of a treasure that would make them inde- 
pendent. But when that girl can hold that experience, then 
she doesn't depend any more. She cannot depend any more, 
because that value is in herself. And that is a sort of libera- 
tion, and it makes her complete. If she can realize such a 
numinous experience she is able to continue on her path, her 
way, her individuation. Nature will take her course. The 
acorn can become an oak, and not a donkey. She will 
become that which she is from the beginning. 

I have seen quite a number of such cases, and that gave 
me a motive to study the archetypes, because I began to see 
that the structure of what I then called the "collective un- 
conscious" is really a sort of agglomeration of such typical 
images, each of which has a numinous quality. The arche- 
types are, at the same time, dynamic; they are instinctual 



347 



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images that are not intellectually invented. They are always 
there and they produce certain processes in the unconscious 
one could best compare with myths. That's the origin of 
mythology. Mythology is a dramatization of a series of 
images that formulate the life of the archetypes. The state- 
ments of every religion, of many poets, and so on, are state- 
ments about the inner mythological process, which is a 
necessity because man is not complete if he is not conscious 
of that aspect of things. 

And so, you see, a man is not complete when he lives in a 
world of statistical truth. He must live in the world of his 
mythological truth, and that is not merely statistics. It is the 
expression of what he really is, and what he feels himself to 
be. A man without mythology is merely a product of statis- 
tics, as it, were, an average phenomenon. Our natural science 
makes everything into an average, reduces everything to an 
average, while the truth is that the carriers of life are indi- 
viduals, not average numbers. And of course, all the indi- 
vidual qualities are wiped out, and that is most unbecoming. 
It is unhygienic. It deprives people of their specific values, of 
the most important experiences of their life, where they 
experience their own value, the creative background of 
their personality. 

The trouble is that nobody understands these things, ap- 
parently. It is quite strange that one doesn't see what an 
education without the humanities is doing to man. He loses 
connection with his family, as it were, with the whole stem, 
the tribe— the connection with the past that he lives in, in 
which man has always lived. Man has always lived in the 
myth, and we think we are able to be born today and to 
live in no myth, without history. That is a disease, absolutely 
abnormal, because man is not born every day. He is born 
once in a specific historical setting, with specific historical 
qualities, and therefore he is only complete when he has a 
relation to these things. If you grow up with no connection 
with the past, it is just as if you were born without eyes and 

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ears. From the standpoint of natural science you need no 
connection with the past, you can wipe it out, but that is a 
mutilation of the human being. I have seen from practical 
experience that this realization has a most extraordinary 
therapeutic effect, and I can tell you such a case. 

There was a young Jewish girl. 4x Her father was a banker, 
and she had received an entirely worldly education. She had 
no idea of tradition, but then I went further into her history 
and found out that her grandfather had been a saddik in 
Galicia, and when I knew that I knew the whole story. That 
girl suffered from a phobia, a terrific phobia, and had al- 
ready been under psychoanalytic treatment to no effect. She 
was really badly plagued by that phobia, anxiety states of all 
sorts. And then I saw that the girl had lost the connection 
with her past, had lost the fact that her grandfather had 
been a saddik, that he lived in the myth. And her father 
had fallen out of it too. So I simply told her, "You will stand 
up to your fear. You know what you have lost?" She didn't, 
of course not. I said, "Your fear is the fear of Yahweh." You 
know, the effect was that within a week she was cured 
after all those years of bad anxiety states, because that went 
through her like lightning. But I could say that only be- 
cause I knew she was absolutely lost. She thought she was 
in the middle of things, but she was lost, gone. 

Her life made no sense, for what is our existence when 
we are just "average numbers"? The more you make people 
into average numbers the more you destroy our society. If 
you want the "ideal state," the "slave state," go to Russia. 
There it is wonderful, there you can be an "average num- 
ber." But you pay very dearly, your whole life goes to 
blazes. 

I have seen plenty of cases of a similar kind, and that, 
naturally, led me on to a profound study of the archetypes. 
I got more and more respectful of archetypes, and now, 

41 Cf. Memories, Dreams, Reflections, pp. I38ff./i37i. Also "The 
Symbolic Life," CW 18, par. 635. 



349 



1957 

by Jove, that thing should be taken into account. That 
is an enormous factor, very important for our further de- 
velopment and for our well-being. It was, of course, difficult 
to know where to begin, because it is such an enormously 
extended field. So the next question I asked myself was, 
"Now where in the world has anybody been busy with that 
problem?" And I found nobody had, except a peculiar 
spiritual movement that went together with the beginnings 
of Christianity, namely Gnosticism. 42 That was the first 
thing, actually, that I saw, that the Gnostics were concerned 
with the problem of archetypes. They made a peculiar 
philosophy of it, as everybody makes a peculiar philosophy 
of it when he comes across it naively and doesn't know that 
the archetypes are structural elements of the unconscious 
psyche. . 

The Gnostics lived in the first, second, and third cen- 
turies. And what was in between? Nothing. And now, 
today, we suddenly fall into that hole and are confronted 
with the problems of the collective unconscious which were 
the same then two thousand years ago — and we are not 
prepared to meet that problem. I was always looking for 
something in between, you know, something that linked 
that remote past with the present moment. And I found to 
my amazement it was alchemy, 43 which is understood to be 
a history of chemistry. It is, one might almost say, anything 
but that. It is a peculiar spiritual or philosophical movement. 
The alchemists called themselves philosophers, like the 
Gnostics. And then I read the whole accessible literature, 
Latin and Greek. I studied it because it was enormously 
interesting. It is the mental work of seventeen hundred 
years, in which is stored up all they could make out about 
the nature of the archetypes, in a peculiar way, that's true — 
it is not simple. Most of the texts haven't been published 
since the Middle Ages; the last editions date from the 

42 Memories, Dreams, Reflections, ch. VII. 

43 Ibid. 



35« 



The Houston Films 

middle or end of the seventeenth century, practically all in 
Latin. Some texts are in Greek, not a few very important 
ones. That gave me no end of work, but the result was most 
satisfactory, because it showed me the development of our 
unconscious relations to the collective unconscious and the 
variations our consciousness has undergone, and why the 
unconscious is concerned with these mythological images. 

Take a phenomenon like Hitler. That is a psychic phe- 
nomenon, and we've got to understand these things. It is 
just as if a terrific epidemic of typhoid fever were breaking 
out, and you said, "Now this is typhoid fever, isn't that a 
marvellous disease?" It can take on enormous proportions 
and nobody knows anything about it. Nobody takes care of 
the water supply, nobody thinks of examining the meat or 
anything like that, but simply states that this is a phenome- 
non. Yes, but one doesn't understand it. To me, of course, 
it was an enormous problem because it is a factor that has 
determined the fate of millions of European people and of 
Americans. Nobody can deny that he has been influenced 
by the war. That is all Hitler's doing, and that's all psychol- 
ogy, our foolish psychology. But you only come to an under- 
standing of these phenomena when you understand the 
background from which they spring. 

Of course I cannot tell you in detail about alchemy. It is 
the basis of our modern way of conceiving things, and 
therefore it is as if it were right under the threshold of 
consciousness. It gives you a wonderful picture of how the 
development of archetypes, the movement of archetypes, 
looks when you see them as if from above. From today you 
look back into the past, and you see how the present 
moment has evolved out of the past. Alchemical philosophy 
— it sounds very curious. We should give it an entirely dif- 
ferent name. It does have a different name, it is called 
Hermetic philosophy, though of course that conveys just as 
little as the term alchemy. It is the parallel development, as 
Gnosticism was, to the conscious development of Christian- 



35i 



1957 

ity, of our Christian philosophy, of the whole psychology 
of the Middle Ages. 

And so, you see, in our days we have such and such a 
view of the world, such and such a philosophy, but in the 
unconscious we have a different one. We can see that from 
the example of alchemical philosophy, which stands in 
exactly the same relation to the medieval consciousness as 
the unconscious stands in relation to ourselves. And we can 
reconstruct, or even predict, the unconscious of our day 
when we know what it has been yesterday. Now that, in a 
few words, is the development of my ideas, without going 
into details. 

You've gone into great detail elsewhere in much of your 
writing, of course. 

Well,' yes. People have to read the books, by golly, in spite 
of the fact that they are thick! I'm sorry. 

We are hoping this will stimulate many of them to read 
the boo\s. 
Well, now you could stop, I think. 

Well done! Well done, Dr. Jung. 



35 2 



JUNG AND THE CHRISTMAS TREE 



MIMM I MIII II DHHUI 



Georg Gerster (b. 1928), having earned a Ph.D. in German 
literature at Zurich University in 1956, embarked on a remark- 
able career as a freelance writer and photographer specializing 
in science — he has worked on every continent including Ant- 
arctica. Shortly before Christmas 1957 he interviewed Jung for 
Die Weltwoche (Zurich), and his article was published on 
Christmas Day. it is slighdy condensed here. Jung is speaking: 



An Indian swami knocked on the door of a villa on the 
Ziirichberg. "Forgive me for disturbing you," he said to the 
householder. "I come from Madras, and am making a study 
of local religious customs in Europe. Perhaps you could 
. . .?" The householder backed away. "I'm afraid you have 
come to the wrong house. We are enlightened people here. 
Of course we go to church, at least now and then, but as you 
probably know we Protestants are not on the best of terms 
with the world of religious symbols. If you were thinking 
of finding any religious customs here like the ones in your 
own country, I'm afraid you will go home disappointed." 
The swami retired crestfallen. But let us suppose he comes 
back again, say in December, and catches the householder 
in the act of decorating the Christmas tree. "But you told 
me you had no religious customs," he says reproachfully. 
"And yet you cut down a fir tree just to let it dry up in the 
drawing-room, and cover it with little candles which are no 
use at all for heating purposes. Tell me, is this prescribed by 
your religion or its holy writings?" The householder shakes 
his head in astonishment. "Not that I know of. It's some- 
thing that's always been done " 

On one of my expeditions to Africa, I lived for a while 
with a tribe on the slopes of Mount Elgon, in Kenya. Every 



353 



1957 

morning, at sunrise, they stepped out of their huts, spat into 
their hands, and held them palm outwards to the sun. 
Asked why they did this, they were at a loss for an answer. 
They could only say: "It's something that's always been 
done. . . ." 1 Such ignorance has earned them the name of 
primitives in the judgment of the whites. Now if our Indian 
friend were to publish in Madras his researches among the 
inhabitants on the slopes of the Ziirichberg, he would have 
some remarkable things to report. "Although they deny it, 
they worship rabbit idols which lay colored eggs, and on the 
day they call Easter they look for these eggs in the garden, 
with much shouting. They also worship, on another day 
they call Christmas, an illuminated tree which they hang 
all over with spangles, shiny balls, and sweetmeats. Yet they 
do not know why they do this. They are very small-minded 
and primitive people." 

The very existence of such things as the May-pole, the 
May-tree, and the greasy pole tell us a great deal about the 
Christian claim to the Christmas tree. At best it was a 
matter of reinterpreting old customs, in much the same way 
as the feast of Christ's nativity was grafted on to the already 
existing mid-winter vegetation festivals. The tree-symbol 
has a very venerable history; the Finnish scholar Uno 
Holmberg, who investigated the symbolism of the tree of 
life, called it "mankind's most magnificent legend." 2 The 
countless changes of meaning the tree-symbol has under- 
gone in the course of its history are proof of its richness and 
vitality. The tree has a cosmic significance — it is the world- 
tree, the world-pillar, the world-axis. Only think of Yggdra- 
sill, the world-ash of Nordic mythology, a majestic, ever- 
green tree growing at the center of the world. The tree, 
particularly its crown, is the abode of the gods. Hence the 
village tree in India and the German village linden tree 

1 Cf. "Archaic Man" (orig 1931), CW 10, pars. 143L 
2 Der Baum des Lebens (Helsinki, 1922-23), p. 9. 



354 



Jung and the Christmas Tree 

round which the villagers gather in the evenings: they are 
sitting in the shadow of the gods. The tree also has a ma- 
ternal aspect. In Germanic mythology the first human 
beings, Ask and Embla, come from the ash and the alder, 
as their names show. Among the Yakuts of Siberia, a tree 
with eight branches was the birthplace of the first man. He 
was suckled by a woman the upper part of whose body grew 
from its trunk. These and many similar ideas are not in- 
vented, they simply came into men's heads in bygone times. 
It is a sort of natural revelation. 

To give an example. One evening an English District 
Commissioner in Nigeria heard a tremendous racket going 
on in the barracks of the native troops. Six soldiers had to 
put a raving comrade in chains. When the D.C. arrived, 
the black man lay quiet and was released at his order. In 
explanation of his strange behavior, he said that he had 
wanted to go home because his tree was calling him, but 
now it was too late. The D.C. learnt further that when he 
was a little child the man's mother had once put him to 
rest under a tree while she went to work. The tree then 
talked to him and made him promise that he would hasten 
to it without delay whenever he heard it calling and would 
bring it food. Several times the tree had called him, said the 
soldier, and each time he had brought it the best he had in 
his miserable hut. On this evening, far from his village, he 
had heard the tree calling for food, yet could not obey the 
voice because of his military duties. Often, as here, the tree 
symbolizes the numen, the psychic fate of the person, his 
inner personality. 3 In the dream of Nebuchadnezzar the 
king himself is symbolized by the tree. There is also an old 
Rabbinic idea that the ageing Adam was granted one look 
into paradise. In the branches of the withered tree there lay 
a child. We might further mention the old patristic ideas of 
Christ as the tree of life. 

3 Cf. "The Spirit Mercurius," CW 13, par. 247. 



355 



1957 

Doesn't the custom, still practiced today in many places, of 
planting a tree at the birth of a child also belong in this 
context? 

Certainly. The reason for this unthinking ritual act is the 
participation mystique between man and the tree: both 
share the same fate. 

To come bac\ to the Christmas tree. Haven't several quite 
different sets of symbols fused into one? The tree, the lights, 
the evergreen branches, the decorations, the distribution of 
Christmas presents— all these have their own symbolic 
value, and in numerous folk, customs some of the compo- 
nents are differently combined. 

Agreed. But let us not forget that the total combination, 
the lighted and decorated tree, is also found outside Christ's 
nativity and in non-Christian contexts. For instance in 
alchemy, that well-known reservoir for the symbols of 
antiquity. 

( Here Jung produced an alchemical picture of the tree with 
the sun, the moon, and the seven planets in its branches, 
surrounded by allegories of the alchemical process of trans- 
formation.) 

Now you know what the shining globes on the Christmas 
tree mean: they are nothing less than the heavenly bodies, 
the sun, moon, and stars. The Christmas tree is the world- 
tree. But, as the alchemical symbolism clearly shows, it is 
also a transformation symbol, a symbol of the process of 
self-realization. According to certain alchemical sources, 
the adept climbs the tree— a very ancient shamanistic motif. 
The shaman, in an ecstasy, climbs the magical tree in order 
to reach the upper world where he will find his true self. By 
climbing the magical tree, which is at the same time a tree 
of knowledge, he gains possession of his spiritual personal- 
ity. To the eye of the psychologist, the shamanistic and 
alchemical symbolism is a projected representation of the 

356 



Jung and the Christmas Tree 

process of individuation. That it rests on an archetypal 
foundation is evidenced by the fact that patients who have 
not the slightest knowledge of mythology and folklore 
spontaneously produce the most amazing parallels to the 
historical tree-symbolism. 4 Experience has taught me that 
the authors of these pictures were trying to express a 
process of inner development independent of their con- 
scious volition. 

Your conception of the Christmas tree is in no way dis- 
turbed by the fact that the custom dates only from the 
seventeenth century? 

Why should that be any objection to my view that the 
Christmas tree, which in the longest and darkest night of 
the year symbolizes the return of the light, is archetypal? 
On the contrary! The way the Christmas tree has caught on 
in various countries and rapidly took root, so that most 
people actually believe it is an age-old custom, is only 
further proof that its appeal is grounded in the depths of 
the psyche, in the collective unconscious, and far exceeds 
that of the crib, the ox, and the ass. 

In one of your boo\s you remark, that people decorate the 
Christmas tree without knowing what is at the back, of 
this custom. 5 

It is an old pagan one. It is not I who use this expression 
but the Church. "Omnis haec observatio est paganorum," it 
says in an old papal declaration with reference to decorating 
the houses with green branches. This and similar customs 
are pagan. And J. C. Dannhauer, an Evangelical theologian 
in Strasbourg, preached in the middle of the seventeenth 
century against the fir trees people set up in their houses at 
Christmas and bedecked with dolls and candles. These old 
divines were not so wrong according to their lights. 

4 Cf. "The Philosophical Tree," Part I, CW 13. 
B "Archaic Man," CW 10, par. 145. 



357 



1957 

Now that you have elucidated its background as an em- 
pirical investigator, the increasing popularity of the Christ- 
mas tree must rejoice your heart as a psychotherapist. I 
conjecture you would agree that Christmas trees are healthy 
— as a measure of psychic hygiene? 

Your conjecture is correct. The archetypes are, so to speak, 
like many little appetites in us, and if, with the passing of 
time, they get nothing to eat, they start rumbling and upset 
everything. The Catholic Church takes this very seriously. 
Just now it is setting about reviving the old Easter customs. 
The abstract greeting "Christ is risen!" no longer satisfies 
the craving of the archetypes for images. So in order to set it 
at rest, they have had recourse to the hare-goddess, a fer- 
tility symbol. And lately the Church has reintroduced an 
ancient fire ceremony : the Easter fire, the primordial fire, is 
lit not with matches but with flint and steel! A tremen- 
dously nourishing procedure for man's feelings. The inner 
man has to be fed— a fact that moderns, with their frivolous 
trust in reason, often overlook to their own harm. The 
Christmas tree is one of those customs which are food for the 
soul, nourishment for the inner man. And the more pri- 
mordial the material they use, the more promising these 
customs are for the future. 



358 



A TALK WITH STUDENTS 
AT THE INSTITUTE 



♦♦■»♦■♦■»*«»*■»»»■» 



During May 1958, Jung came and talked with students at the 
C. G. Jung Institute of Zurich. Notes were taken by one of 
them, Marian Bayes, and published only twelve years later, in 
Spring, 1970. Mrs, Bayes 's transcript has been edited to elimi- 
nate brackets around some phrases, supplied by the transcriber 
for tentative readings. 



What is man to do with his passionate, primitive, chthonic 
nature? 

We tend to identify our chthonic nature with evil and our 
spiritual nature with good. We must accept the dark forces 
and stop projecting them. What is acceptance? Some things 
cannot be accepted. If the analysis is honest it will come to 
an impossible problem— a problem that has no issue. A lot 
of instinctive nature is repressed, and it wells up. And now 
what? Nobody can deal with it; nobody knows what to do. 

Go to bed. Think of your problem. See what you dream. 
Perhaps the Great Man, the 2,000,000-year-old man, will 
speak. In a cul-de-sac, then only do you hear his voice. The 
urge to become what one is is invincibly strong, and you 
can always count on it, but that does not mean that things 
will necessarily turn out positively. If you are not interested 
in your own fate, the unconscious is. 

There is a mountain of symbolism. It is not designed to 
prove a theory, as people think. I have amassed symbols in 
order to give the analyst a chance to know about symbolism 
so that he can interpret dreams. As if we know nature! Or 
about the psyche! The 2,000,000-year-old man may know 
something. 



359 



1958 



I have no trouble talking to primitives. When I talk of 
the Great Man, or the equivalent, they understand. The 
Great Man is something that reacts. 

The analyst needs knowledge in order to interpret what 
the unconscious says, and he must give credit to his own 
interpretation. He must have courage, he must help; it is as 
if a man is bleeding to death, and you ponder! You can 
only say, "My God, I don't {now, but if it is an error, the 
unconscious will correct it. It seems to me it is like this." — 
And stand for it! It must be the best you can do. No cheat- 
ing, no flippancy or routine; then the devil is after you. You 
must be honest about whether it is really the best you can do. 
If it is the best before God that you can do, then you can 
count on things going the right way. But it may be the 
wrong way. We go through difficult things; that is fate. 
Man goes through analysis so that he can die. I have an- 
alyzed to the end with the end in sight— to accompany the 
individual in order that he may die. The analyst must help 
life as long as he can. 

There is a prejudice that analysis is the art of letting out 
the unconscious, like opening the cages in a zoo. That is 
part of analysis, but it must not be done in an irresponsible 
and foolish way. This is only the preparatory part. The 
main analysis is what to do with the things that have 
emerged from the unconscious. One must see what the 
underlying trend is — what the will of God is. You are 
damned if you don't follow it. It will ruin your life, your 
health. You have sold part of your soul, or have lost it. 

To the primitives it is death to lose the soul. 

Analysis is a long discussion with the Great Man— an 
unintelligent attempt to understand him. Nevertheless, it is 
an attempt, as both patient and analyst understand it. (The 
Naskapi 1 would have a great advantage, because he would 

iOn the Naskapi Indians of the Labrador Peninsula and their 
concept of the Great Man, see M.-L. von Franz, "The Process of 
Individuation," in Man and His Symbols (1964), PP- 161-62; also 
Frank G. Speck, Naskapi (Norman, Okla., 1935). PP- 4 lff - 

360 



A Tal\ with Students at the Institute 

realize that it is a discussion with the Great Man.) Work 
until the patient can see this. It, the Great Man, can at one 
stroke put an entirely different face on the thing — or any- 
thing can happen. In that way you learn about the peculiar 
intelligence of the background; you learn the nature of the 
Great Man. You learn about yourself against the Great 
Man— against his postulates. This is the way through things, 
things that look desperate and unanswerable. The point is, 
how are you yourself going to answer this? There one is 
alone, as one should be, with the highest ethical distinctions. 
Ethics is not convention; ethics is between myself and the 
Great Man. During this process, you learn about ethics 
versus morality. 2 The unconscious gives you that peculiar 
twist that makes the way possible. 

The way is ineffable. One cannot, one must not, betray it. 
It is like the way of Zen — like a sharp knife, and also twist- 
ing like a serpent. One needs faith, courage, and no end of 
honesty and patience. 

Does the cycle of this dialogue continue permanently, or has 
man a special role in it? 

That is what you learn: what your role is, where you are 
in the divine economy, in the order of things. You see 
yourself in a new light because you have added the infor- 
mation of the unconscious. You have added things you 
didn't dream of — a new aspect of yourself and of the world. 
This you cannot regulate, or it would be misused. 

To clarify your mind you draw a mandala, and it is legiti- 
mate. Another says, "Oh, that's how to do it!" and draws a 
mandala. And that is a mistake; that is cheating, because he 
is copying. 

Never say no or yes on principle. Say it only when you 
feel it is really yes. If it is really no, it is no. If you say yes 
for any outer reason, you are sunk. 

2 Cf. "A Psychological View of Conscience" (1958), CW 10. 

361 



1958 



What is the result of an attitude of free decision? 

The result is that you are always in the game; you are 
included, you are taken for real. If you are dishonest, you 
are excluded from the individuation process. If you are 
dishonest, you are nothing for your unconscious. The Great 
Man will spit on you, and you will be left far behind in your 
muddle — stuck, stupid, and idiotic. 

If you follow the unconscious closely, your intelligence 
will not sink below a certain level, and you will add a good 
deal of intelligence to what you already possess. If you take 
the unconscious intellectually, you are lost. It is not a con- 
viction, not an assumption. It is a Presence. It is a fact. It is 
there. It happens. 

How can we know it? By a certain amount of self- 
criticism, When you have an idea, you have not thought 
about that thing. It came to you. When you realize this, 
then you are honest. A certain amount of modesty is abso- 
lutely necessary. You have got to accept what the uncon- 
scious produces, and you have to understand its language. 
It is Nature, and it has to be translated into human forms. 
That is the reason for the dignity of man, that he has the 
ability to do this. There is no reflection in creation. To re- 
flect is man's task, and he can do it when he is not sterilized. 
When he puts himself above it, he is sterile. The attitude is 
incommensurable with science. What scientist will observe 
and say that what he observes does not exist? When you 
observe, then you are scientific. People don't know whether 
a thought is theirs or whether they unhooked it in another 
house. The naivete of the white man— that he identifies the 
ego with the Great Man! 

Is not the human bond a central vital lin\ in analysis? 

The thing you are is so much stronger than your feeble 
words. The patient is permeated by what you are— by your 
real being— and pays little attention to what you say. The 
analyst has unsolved problems because he is alive— life is a 

362 



A Tal\ with Students at the Institute 

problem daily. Otherwise he is dead. In the shortest time 
each puts his foot into it. If you take your mistake the right 
way, it is the way of analysis. The analyst must know about 
his complexes, because they will be touched during the 
work with the patient. When I dream of a patient, it is 
usually a sign that one of my complexes has been touched. 
Each step ahead that the patient makes can be a step for 
the analyst. You cannot be with someone without being 
permeated by that personality, but the chances are you do 
not notice it; a certain feeling-atmosphere will take hold of 
you. If you are not a feeling type you may have to ask a 
feeling type about your own "weather" because you are 
unconscious of your own feelings. 

Doesn't stress on the transference obviate . . . ? 

One of the greatest hindrances to understanding is the 
projection of the shaman — the savior. As soon as you are 
elevated to such a rank, you are powerless, lost in a sea of 
mist. When signs of this inflation appear, this is a serious 
warning, and the inflation must be discouraged as soon as 
possible. You are just as unable to perform miracles as a 
shaman as a rule is. The father complex is at the bottom of 
it, and when this is analyzed, it is reduced to human size. 
But there is still the human being. The father transference, 
the Christ transference, etc., each is a mistake, a deviation, 
produced by the patient's perplexity. If the patient were a 
Naskapi, he would say that the transference is his Great 
Man. The analytic conversation is between two Great Men. 
(The Naskapi would have a great advantage because he 
would understand this.) Work until the patient can see 
that. That is the point of the transference. It is vital to the 
patient to find out about this, and the analyst must be able 
to answer these questions. He can only say, "I am this," 
when he knows what this is. The patient may come to the 
end of his perplexity and still have a transference. Awk- 
ward. Then it is something else — the archetypes are in play; 

363 



1958 

that is the Great Man, or whatever he calls it. At bottom, 
the transference is by no means a personal fantasy. You 
lose an enormous value when you reduce it to the personal, 
and you must teach the patient about this double possibility : 
that there is the personal and there is something more in the 
personality, namely the Great Man. 



364 



FROM CHARLES BAUDOUIN'S 
JOURNAL: 1958 



The first International Congress for Analytical Psychology was 
held in Zurich in August 1958. The pleasant feature of a boat 
ride on the lake was included in the program, with a pause off- 
shore at Jung's house. After Emma Jung's death, in 1955, Ruth 
Bailey, a close family friend whom Jung had met during his 
trip to East Africa in 1925-26, had at Mrs. Jung's wish become 
his housekeeper and companion. 



Sunday, August 10 
Today a boat trip on the lake of Zurich in the late after- 
noon. The big moment came when the boat stopped off 
Kiisnacht to salute Jung with a trumpet blast and hundreds 
of waving arms. The old master, dressed in summer white, 
had come down to the bank below his villa; standing with 
his lady companion beside him, he gestured with his hand 
for a long time as he watched the big boat loaded with his 
disciples disappearing — toward what destinies? — into the 
fair-weather haze. The young and affable Dr. Baumann, 1 
who speaks excellent French — which does no harm — told 
me that he was Jung's grandson, and he explained that the 
lady companion who has been helping Jung "since my 
grandmother died" was an old friend met in the 1920's at 
the time of the trip to black Africa; then, as we passed it, he 
showed us the birthplace of Paracelsus. 2 But the vision — 
insistent and moving — that continued to dominate the re- 

1 Dieter Baumann, M.D., son of Jung's second daughter, Gret, 
and Dr. Fritz Baumann. He is an analytical psychologist. 

2 Paracelsus (see above, p. 39, n. 5) was born in 1493 at Einsiedeln, 
several miles south of the lake. 



365 



1958 

marks we exchanged and the water, land, and clouds pass- 
ing by was the vision of Jung all in white, larger than life- 
size, one would have said — probably because of the white 
clothing — standing on his bank and repeating, as though to 
infinity, his gestures of farewell. 

(It was a real farewell : I was not to see him again.) 



[Translated by Jane A. Pratt] 



366 



FROM ESTHER HARDING'S 
NOTEBOOKS: 1958 



M «» *4MMHM»« «» « 4 »H » 



Kiisnacht, 23 August 
We found him looking remarkably well, and he greeted us 
with great cordiality. . . . 

We spoke of the Congress . . . and he talked of how, when 
the idea is not sufficiently real, it is couched in "fat words," 
"words of power," that seek to convince but are really a 
compensation for a weakness in the idea or in the under- 
standing of the idea 

[About the Assumption of the Virgin Mary] Jung said 
that she has already entered into the nuptial chamber and 
that thus, naturally, after a time there will be a child. The 
churchmen do not realize this, nor do they consider what it 
will mean. They stop at the idea that there may be some 
sort of feminine godhead, but do not speculate on what 
sort of child will be born, like the child of the Sun-Woman 
in the Revelation. 1 . . . 

Over and over again, he came back to the need for hu- 
manness. The wise man needs to give a place to foolishness, 
to childishness. Otherwise he gets above his humanity and 
stumbles over a stone; then he goes back and kicks the 
stone "that ought to have known enough to get out of the 
way of Mr. So-and-So, while all the time he stumbled be- 
cause he was not paying enough attention to his humble 
reality." 

On Palm Sunday, the Master could not walk, but must 
ride, he said, speaking of the New Testament; so he stole 
the ass. He had said his kingdom was not of this world, yet 

1 Cf. "Answer to Job" (orig. 1952), CW 11, par. 710, referring 
to Revelation 12:1. 



367 



1958 



in this act he contradicted his own mission. So just after- 
wards he cursed the barren fig tree, for "it ought to have 
had food for the Master's lunch— just like the man who 
kicks the stone he stumbles over. But the theologians never 
see this. Satan, the power devil, whom he had cast behind 
his back, returned on Palm Sunday. In this way, he brought 
on himself the mocking as a Caesar, etc. He forsook his 
mission, and so, on the cross, he felt that God had forsaken 
him." 

He said the gospels were full of all sorts of contradictory 
things. The mention of the fig tree episode led him to speak 
of the Lord's Prayer and its petition, "Give us this day our 
daily bread." He said the Greek word translated as daily 
occurred in this place only, never in classical Greek, so a 
guess had -been made as to its meaning. St. Jerome trans- 
lated it as suprasubstantial bread. Recently it had been found 
in the gnostic writings of some newly-discovered fragments. 
There, it seemed to have the meaning of daily portion, or 
ration. Here again, C. G. said, we have a contradiction, for 
the Lord's Prayer taught us to be concerned about our 
daily ration, while another time he taught, "Take no 
thought for the morrow, what ye shall eat or what ye shall 
drink or wherewithal ye shall be clothed, for your heavenly 
Father knoweth that ye have need of these things." 2 

He said he was sorry that St. Jerome's translation was not 
the correct one, for it was very meaningful. 

Speaking of the foolishness of the wise, he said one must 
always recognize that one does not know what a dream 
means, especially one's own dream, for the unconscious al- 
ways finds the chink in the wall of one's own theory or 
built-up system. The unconscious wants to come through 
into consciousness, and when we build up a systematic 
body of knowledge we necessarily keep the unconscious 
out. Nature is just what we do not know. So, he said, in 

2 Cf. Matthew 6:25 and Luke 12:22. 

368 



From Esther Harding's Notebooks 

speaking of such things it is much better to use a symbolic 
way of speech, for that says much more — even what you do 
not know yourself. If you limit yourself to known facts, 
what you say may be true of the thousand other cases, but 
j ust not of this one. The truth escapes people who are always 
trying to systematize, and they have to use power to try to 
convince. 

One must allow one's own foolishness, for Nature is 
naive; there is always the joke, the just-so. 

The user of fat words cannot put it into simple language. 
He is impressed with the powerful idea and tries to impress 
others with it. If he were really impressed with its reality, 
he would stammer and get great feelings of inferiority 
before it. Every true experience of the numinosum has this 
effect. But such a man is afraid to show his littleness in face 
of the great idea. He gets inflated and struts. He would be 
shown to be really wise if he could admit that he could say 
nothing in the face of the great experience. (A man who is 
truly in love can only stammer, "I love you.") 

And yet, he said one must make a theory or system, 
especially for teaching purposes, only one must not take it as 
representing the facts. As an illustration of the use and 
limitations of a formulated system, he said, it is as though 
you find an uninhabited island. You must begin at once to 
orient yourself. There is a mountain over there, a group of 
trees here, and the coastline along there. The mountain is 
perhaps ten miles away, but it may be fifteen, then your 
calculations will be put out. Also you do not know how 
high it is, so you cannot triangulate from it. Or there may 
be a river between you and it that you cannot cross. Yet 
you must say, "Here is a map of the island I discovered, but, 
for goodness sake, don't believe it!" And you must say the 
same to students when you teach them the theory of 
analysis. 



369 



AT THE BASEL PSYCHOLOGY CLUB 



IMMtH t HltHH I 



On November i, 1958, Jung visited a small study group of the 
Psychologische Gesellschaft in Basel and answered a series 
of written questions, besides other questions spoken from the 
audience. The event was tape-recorded and transcribed, and it is 
first published here, in translation. Square brackets indicate 
lacunae in the text or conjectural readings. 



I would like to thank you for crediting me with the ability 
to say something sensible in spite of my advanced years. 
This cannot be taken entirely for granted since I tend for 
the most part to be very absent-minded. Concentrating on 
your difficult questions might thus end in the fiasco of my 
getting lost in some train of thought. So I beg you to call 
me to order if it seems to you that I am wandering off 
somewhere into the blue. 

Question i : What is the criterion that indicates whether an 
archetypal dream or a vision should make an obligatory 
demand on an individual, or be evaluated only as an expres- 
sion of a general contemporary event which the dreamer has 
picked up and which does not address him as an individual 
human being? 

The desired criterion here is whether the dreamer feels 
numinously addressed by the dream. If not, then it doesn't 
concern him — and it doesn't concern me either. At most it 
could initiate a theoretical bandying about of words, which 
of course is futile. 

Question 2: Can myth be equated with a collective dream? 
If so, are we to assume that a historical event either precedes 
or follows it? 



370 



At the Basel Psychology Club 

Here you must define more precisely what you mean by 
myth. Strictly speaking, a myth is a historical document. It 
is told, it is recorded, but it is not in itself a dream. It is the 
product of an unconscious process in a particular social 
group, at a particular time, at a particular place. This un- 
conscious process can naturally be equated with a dream. 
Hence anyone who "mythologizes," that is, tells myths, is 
speaking out of this dream, and what is then retold or 
actually recorded is the myth. But you cannot, strictly 
speaking, properly take the myth as a unique historical 
event like a dream, an individual dream which has its place 
in a time sequence; you can do that only grosso modo. You 
can say that at a particular place, at a particular time, a 
particular social group was caught up in such a process, and 
perhaps you can so to speak condense this process, covering 
it may be several thousand years, and say this epoch histor- 
ically precedes such and such, and historically follows such 
and such. 

This is a very troublesome undertaking. What precedes 
the myth of Osiris, for example? The Osiris myth goes back 
to approximately 4000 b.c. What preceded it? Total dark- 
ness. We just don't know. And what followed it? The 
answer to this is of course much easier: the Osiris myth was 
followed by the Christ myth. That is perfectly clear, even 
though theologians assure us that remarkably enough the 
mental outlook of the New Testament has nothing to do 
with Egyptology, or precious little; but it is simply that 
people know too little, that's all. I will give you only one 
example. As you know, Christ's genealogical table in the 
New Testament consists of 3 x 14 names. 1 The number 14 
is significant, because at the great Heb-Sed festival of the 
ancient Egyptians, celebrated every thirty years to reaffirm 
Pharaoh as God's son, statues of 14 of his ancestors were 
carried before him at the procession, and if 14 ancestors 

1 Matthew 1:1-17. 



37 1 



1958 

couldn't be found, some invented ones were added — there 
had to be 14 of them. 2 Well, in the case of God's son 
Christ, who was of course infinitely more exalted than 
Pharaoh, there had to be 3 x 14 generations, and that is a 
Trishagion, the well-known triple formula for "Holy, holy, 
holy is the Lord God of Sabaoth." This triple repetition is 
simply an expression of the numinosity of the "Thrice 
Holy." 

Here, then, we have one such trace [of Egyptian in- 
fluence]. If you carefully study the statements about Christ 
that have been handed down historically, you will find they 
are mythological statements intimately connected with the 
myth of Osiris. That is why Christianity spread into Egypt 
without meeting the slightest resistance. The country was 
christianized in no time because all the necessary precedents 
already existed. Take for example the fish, the fish attribute 
of Christ: it was swallowed by the Egyptians without 
question because they already had a day on which a certain 
fish might be eaten and on other days not. All this quite 
apart from the spiritual content of the Osiris myth. 

Now it is the case with most myths, when you examine 
them more closely, that the historical event can be estab- 
lished post jestum but not ante jestum, because the more 
numinous these mythological statements are, the further 
they recede into the dim bygone of human history. We at 
any rate are in the fortunate position of late epigoni, who, 
looking back on three Platonic months, three aeons of con- 
scious history, can demonstrate that these myths form a 
continuity. Thus the Osiris myth was clearly superseded by 
the Christ myth. This is one of the finest examples of 
mythological continuity. It is as though in the course of the 
millennia slow upheavals took place in the unconscious, 
each new aeon being as it were ushered in by a new myth. 

2 Cf. Mysterium Coniunctionis, CW 14, par. 331, n. 9. For the 
Heb-Sed festival, cf. pars. 356ft".; also Erich Neumann, The Origins 
and History of Consciousness (1954), pp. 243ft. 



37 2 



At the Basel Psychology Club 

The myth is not new, it is age-old, but a new version, a new 
edition of it, a new interpretation characterizes the new 
epoch. That is why, for the ancients, the transition from 
one age to another was an important event. For instance 
Hammurabi, the famous Babylonian lawgiver, felt he was 
the Lord of a new aeon; he lived around 2000 b.c. That is 
roughly the time when the Jewish tradition began. Think, 
also, of the Augustan Age another two thousand years later, 
which began with Divus Augustus, whose birth was re- 
garded as the birth of a savior. And if you recall Virgil's 
4th Eclogue, 3 you will see that the child who ushers in the 
coming age is a bringer of peace, a savior, who was nat- 
urally interpreted by the Christians as Christ. The date of 
Virgil's poem is prechristian. For him it was certainly the 
birth of Augustus that was meant. At that time there was a 
tremendous longing for redemption in Italy, because two 
thirds — please note — two thirds of the population consisted 
of slaves whose fate was hopelessly sealed. That gave rise to 
a general mood of depression, and in the melancholy of the 
Augustan Age this longing for redemption came to ex- 
pression. Therefore a man who knew how to "mytholo- 
gize," like Virgil, expressed this situation in the 4th 
Eclogue. Thanks to this prophetic gift he is also the 
psychopomp in Dante, the guide of souls in purgatory and 
in hell. Afterwards, of course, in the Christian paradise, he 
had to surrender this role to the feminine principle [Bea- 
trice], and this is naturally highly significant in view of the 
future recognition of the feminine figure in Christianity. 
But all that was in Dante's time. Then, as you know, it was 
six hundred years until the dogma of the Immaculate Con- 
ception was promulgated by Pius IX, 4 and another hundred 
years until the promulgation of the Assumption. 5 

3 For text, see Symbols of Transformation, CW 5, par. 121. 

4 In the Bull Ineffabilis Deus, December 8, 1854. 

5 By Pius XII in the Bull Munificentissimus Deus, November 1, 
1950. 



373 



1958 

Question 3: Do you believe we are heading for complete 
barbarism in the new aeon, or is there still some livelihood 
that cultural disaster can be avoided? 

I must confess that in this matter I believe nothing, for I 
just don't know. I can't believe anything I don't know, and 
once I know it I don't need to believe it any more. I don't 
know whether we are heading for complete disaster, I only 
know that things look very black — but you know that too. 
I don't want to play the prophet, but you see, the great 
problem before us is over-population, not the atom bomb. 
The atom bomb, teleologically considered, makes provision 
for the disposal of the surplus. There are population statis- 
tics which already predict even more serious food shortages 
in 1965; India, the entire subcontinent of India is already in 
the grip of this crisis. The slightest disturbance in the 
seasonal fertility leads to frightful famines, and the same is 
true of China. Now they have stamped out malaria in India 
and that alone causes an immense population increase, quite 
apart from all the epidemics of cholera and plague that 
have been averted. However, it is likely that in time they 
will have to be allowed to spread again; it is the only pos- 
sible way of skimming off the surplus population. This is 
not my idea; I have talked with the Chief of Public Hy- 
giene who has a big laboratory on the Gulf of Kutch, the 
main import center for such articles as smallpox, cholera, 
and plague. He told me that they can imagine no other 
solution of the overpopulation problem in India except a 
colossal epidemic. In 1920, for instance, following the in- 
fluenza epidemic, they had a loss of 675,000 lives. But that 
is exactly the surplus birthrate for one year and it goes on 
piling up like an avalanche. 

Question from the audience: Can't something be done 
with birth control? 

Well, they have granted half a million pounds for that, 
and you should just ask the Indians what good it has done 



374 



At the Basel Psychology Club 

and how it went down with the masses — you can imagine. 
It amounts to nothing at all, a drop of water on a hot stove. 
The decrease of population doesn't begin with the educated 
classes who understand birth control; it must begin with 
the lower classes, and in India until recently only 20 per cent 
of them were not illiterate. Today about half the popula- 
tion is still illiterate. You can imagine what birth control 
means under these conditions: nothing. They are little 
better than cave-dwellers, and many of them are still com- 
pletely wild tribesmen. Reasonable measures like these are 
quite hopeless. The birth rate can only be controlled by 
catastrophes, short of a miracle. The question naturally 
arises: What will happen if the world population goes on 
increasing and people are huddled together still more as a 
result? It will produce a frightful tension which can dis- 
charge itself in one way or another, and on the rational side 
we have no answer and on the irrational side we can expect 
heaven knows what, at any rate nothing particularly hope- 
ful. You can put this down to the pessimism of old age. At 
all events, it is highly probable that we are heading for an 
extremely critical time, which all of us may perhaps not 
experience — the peak of it, that is — because we are the end 
of the Pisces aeon and can certainly expect that with the 
transition to the new aeon of Aquarius, approximately 150- 
200 years from now, our distant descendants will experience 
all sorts of things. This atom bomb business, for instance, is 
terribly characteristic of Aquarius, whose ruler is Uranos, 
the Lord of unpredictable events. But this is speculation. 
Have you any questions? I wouldn't want my esteemed 
audience to be left out of it! 

Question 4: Since our consciousness is one of the contents 
of the self, can we assume that individual consciousness 
continues after death? Do you kjiow any modern dream 
material which would corroborate such an assumption? 
Does the concept of eternal life mean the preservation of 



375 



1958 

individual consciousness, or that the human soul enters into 
other forms and configurations, thereby losing its indi- 
viduality? 

You realize that this is very difficult to answer. To put it 
briefly, it's a question of conscious immortality. This is a 
question our Lord Buddha was asked twice. For his dis- 
ciples it was naturally a matter of great concern whether 
the \arma that passes from one generation to another by 
metempsychosis is personal, and represents a personal con- 
tinuity, or whether it is impersonal. In the latter case it's as 
though there were an unconscious ^arma suspended some- 
where, which is seized upon in the act of birth and is re- 
incarnated with no awareness of any personal continuity. 
That is one aspect. The other aspect is that this \arma is 
by nature, conscious, having a subjective consciousness, and 
when this is reincarnated it becomes potentially possible to 
remember one's previous births because of this \arma\ 
transcendent self -awareness. Both times Buddha evaded the 
question, he didn't go into it, although he himself asserted 
that he was aware of his previous births, about 560 incarna- 
tions in all conceivable forms, plant, animal, and human. 

So you see that in those times, when people were not 
exactly sparing with metaphysical assertions, there being as 
yet no theory of knowledge, Buddha rejected this question 
as useless. He thought it much more useful to meditate on 
the nidana chain, the chain of cause and effect, consisting of 
old age, sickness, and death, than to speculate about im- 
mortality. And in a sense such speculation is sterile, because 
we are never in a position to adduce any valid proofs in 
this respect. If we could eventually adduce any proof it 
would be of a man, say, appearing as a ghost one year or 
two years or ten years or maybe even twenty years after his 
death. But we still cannot prove that this ghost is identical 
with this dead man. There is thus no possibility whatever 
of furnishing proofs, because even if the ghost of a dead 
man were to reveal something that only he had known in 



376 



At the Basel Psychology Club 

his lifetime and no one else — and there are such cases, well 
authenticated cases — the question would still remain as to 
how that was related to the absolute knowledge of the 
unconscious. The unconscious has a kind of absolute 
knowledge, but we cannot prove it is an absolute knowl- 
edge, because the Absolute, the Eternal, is transcendental. 
It is something we cannot grasp at all, for we are not yet 
eternal and consequently can say nothing whatever about 
eternity, our consciousness being what it is. These are 
transcendental speculations, which may be so or may not be 
so. Hence for epistemological reasons it is absolutely impos- 
sible to make out anything with certainty in this matter. 

On the other hand, the question of immortality is so 
urgent, of such immediacy, that one ought nevertheless to 
give some kind of answer. So I say to myself, Well then, if 
I am up against a question I cannot answer and yet ought 
to answer for the peace of my soul, for my own well-being, 
I can be so disquieted by this question that an answer is 
absolutely imperative. At any rate I ought to try to form an 
opinion about it with the help of the unconscious, and the 
unconscious then obliges and produces dreams which point 
to a continuation of life after death. There is no doubt of 
that, I have seen many examples of this kind. Now of 
course you can say these are only fantasies, compensating 
fantasies which we cannot hinder, which are rooted in our 
nature — all life desires eternity — but they are far from 
being a proof. On the other hand, we must tell ourselves 
that though this argument is all right as far as it goes, we 
have irrefutable evidence that at least parts of our psyche 
are not subject to the laws of space and time, otherwise 
perceptions outside space and time would be altogether im- 
possible — yet they exist, they happen. All cases of telepathic 
clairvoyance, predictions of the future — they exist. I have 
been able to verify this from countless experiences, not to 
mention Rhine's experiments, which can't be refuted unless 
you stand the whole theory of probability on its head. This 



377 



1958 

has actually been proposed, a whole new probability theory 
should be invented, though how this could be done without 
violations of logic is completely beyond me. At any rate we 
have at present no means of contesting Rhine's results, quite 
apart from the numerous instances of prediction, non- 
spatial perception, and the like. 

This offers the clearest and most incontrovertible proof 
that our conceptions of space and time, as seen from the 
causal, rationalistic standpoint, are incomplete. To get a 
complete picture of the world we would have to add an- 
other dimension, or we could never explain the totality of 
the phenomena in a unified way. That is why rationalists 
maintain through thick and thin that no such experiences as 
clairvoyance and the like exist, because the rationalistic 
view of the world stands or falls with the reality of these 
phenomena. But if they do exist, our rationalistic view of 
the world is untenable. You know that in modern physics 
the possibility that the universe has several dimensions is 
no longer denied. We must reckon with the fact that this 
empirical world is in a sense appearance, that is to say it is 
related to another order of things below it or behind it, 
where "here" and "there" do not exist; where there is no 
extension in space, which means that space doesn't exist, 
and no extension in time, which means that time doesn't 
exist. There are experiences where space is reduced by 20 
per cent, or time by 90 per cent, so that the time concept is 
only 10 per cent valid. If that is so — and I see no possibility 
of disputing it — we must face the fact that something of our 
psychic existence is outside space and time, that is, beyond 
changeability, or one could also say, changeable only in in- 
finite spaces of time. 

These are ideas which for us are logical deductions, but 
are commonly held views in India. For instance, if you read 
the Buddha stories in the [Pali Canon], you will find many 
examples. Here is one: When the Buddha was dwelling in 
the grove he suddenly heard that one of the highest Brahma 



378 



At the Basel Psychology Club 

gods had a wrong thought. He at once betook himself to 
the highest Brahma world and found the Brahma god in a 
fort— actually the palace of the Rajah or the Maharajah— 
and in the spacious paradisal gardens of this fort, set on a 
high peak of the Himalayas, the Brahma god was enjoying 
himself with his court ladies. They had climbed up a tree 
and were throwing flowers and fruit down and he found it 
delightful and said to the Buddha, This spectacle you see, 
this joy and this pleasure, will endure forever because I am 
immortal. Then said the Buddha, There you make your 
mistake. Your life will endure for \alpas, for cosmic ages, 
but sometime it will come to an end. The Brahma god 
wouldn't believe it. At this moment there was suddenly 
absolute silence. No flowers and no fruit fell down any 
more, the laughter of the court ladies froze, and the Brahma 
god was very astonished and said, What's up? Then said 
the Buddha, At this very moment the \arma of your court 
ladies is extinguished and they are no more — and so it will 
fare with you. Then the Brahma god was converted to the 
Lord Buddha and vowed him true discipleship. 

That is the story. Life may endure for an infinity of 
\alpas but it is not eternal. Of course that doesn't bother us 
much. But it does show that in India there was a realization 
of the relativity of time. It is an intuition, naturally evolved 
and become second nature, of what is probably the actual 
state of our world. We see a world of consciousness from 
which we can't really draw any conclusions, but then we 
know from experience that there is a background which is 
absolutely necessary, otherwise we couldn't explain the 
phenomena of this world. In consequence, we are unable to 
explain a prediction of the future or a spatial extrasensory 
perception in terms of special radar facilities, for even the 
finest radar cannot predict an event taking place a fortnight 
hence. We always use this radar comparison to explain 
seeing at a distance in space, but you get nowhere with it in 
explaining seeing at a distance in time. 



379 



1958 



Question from the audience: Some years ago you once 
talked about the physicist's concept of the time quantum, 
according to which there is not time in between two time 
quanta, so that what appears between them is a kind of 
timelessness. Would you elaborate on this? 

That is really beside the point, it is only an analogy for 
making comprehensible how timelessness must be implicit 
in the time concept, as is necessary for logical reasons. When 
you say "high" you also mean "low" without saying so. 
When we speak of time we must also have the concept of 
nontime. Just as we have the quantum concept in energy, so 
also, since time is a phenomenon of energy, we can speak 
[without any] difference of a succession of such [time 
quanta], that is, of these gaps then produced. The quantum 
theory is a theory of the discontinuity of events, and that is 
why Einstein tried to bridge over the gaps. It was a thorn in 
his eye that discontinuities exist; the perfect world-creator 
cannot afford discontinuities, everything should be rational, 
but it just isn't. 

We are not in a position to prove that anything of us is 
necessarily preserved for eternity. But we can assume with 
great probability that something of our psyche goes on 
existing. Whether this part is in itself conscious, we don't 
know either. There is also the consideration, based on ex- 
perience, that any split-off part of the psyche, if it can mani- 
fest itself at all, always does so in the form of a personality, 
as though it possessed a consciousness of itself. That is why 
the voices heard by the insane are personal. All split-off 
complexes speak in personal form whenever they express 
themselves. You can, if you like, or if you feel the need, 
take this as an argument in favor of a continuity of con- 
sciousness. In general one could say that since consciousness 
is an important psychic phenomenon, why shouldn't it be 
just that part of the psyche which is not affected by space 
and time? In other words, it goes on existing relatively out- 
side space and time, which would by no means be a proof 

380 



At the Basel Psychology Club 

of immortality but rather of an existence for an indefinite 
time after or beyond death. 

In support of this psychological hypothesis you can also 
adduce the experiential fact that in conditions which by all 
medical standards are profoundly unconscious, resulting 
from cerebral anemia or shock, the most complicated 
dreams can occur, presupposing a high degree of conscious 
activity as well as the presence of an individual conscious- 
ness, despite the fact that for sound commonsense any 
psychic activity is no longer possible. So if I fall into an 
absolute coma and am totally unconscious of my coma, it is 
possible for a big dream to take place in this coma. Well, 
who is doing that, and where? It is explained that because 
of the lack of blood the brain is incapable of sustaining 
consciousness. But how then does it sustain a dream in 
which an individual consciousness is present? Two German 
physiologists have published a very interesting work on sub- 
jective levitation phenomena following brain injuries. 8 Such 
cases have been observed fairly often, though these things 
are rather rare. For instance, a soldier is shot in the head in 
combat and lies there as if dead. But, in his subjective con- 
sciousness, he rises up in the air in the position in which he 
is lying. The noise of battle is completely extinguished, he 
sees the whole terrain, he sees the other people, but it is all 
utterly soundless and still; then he hears his name, a com- 
rade is calling to him and he comes to himself and is now 
really a wounded man. But up to that point he is in a state 
of levitation, he is as though lifted out of this world, yet 
though it continues to exist and he has some perception of 
it, it no longer affects him. By any human standard such a 
person is profoundly unconscious. But in his unconscious- 
ness he undergoes a subjective experience which is simply 



•Hubert Jantz and Kurt Beringer, "Das Syndrom des Schwebe- 
erlebnisses unmittelbar nach Kopfverletzungen," Der Nervenarzt 
(Berlin), XVII (1944), pp. 197-206. Cf. "Synchronicity: An Acausal 
Connecting Principle," CW 8, pars. 949ft. 

381 



1958 

psychic, and which can be placed on entirely the same foot- 
ing as consciousness. It is observations like these that have 
to be considered here. 

The concept of immortality tells us nothing about the 
related idea of rebirth or metempsychosis. Here again we 
have to depend on dreams that give us a few hints. But it is 
worth bearing in mind that a highly civilized continent 
like India — that is, highly civilized in its spiritual culture — 
is absolutely convinced of the transmigration of souls, and 
that reincarnation is regarded as self-evident. This is as 
much taken for granted as our assumption that God created 
the world or that some kind of spiritus rector exists — that 
would be a fitting comparison. Educated Indians know that 
we don't think as they do, but that doesn't bother them in 
the least; tbey simply find it stupid that we don't think that 
way. When I was in India, a doctor gave me a whole dossier 
about a child of four, a little girl who remembered her 
previous life. She had been reborn a few years after her 
death and knew what her name was previously, her hus- 
band's name, what children she had and where she lived. 
So when she was four years old — in India children are very 
precocious — her father went with her to that distant city 
and let himself be shown round by the child. She led him 
to her house, where she had been the mother, where her 
children still were, where her husband was, and she recog- 
nized everybody, even the grandmother — an Indian house- 
hold always has a grandmother on top — she knew them all 
and was then accepted as the previous wife. I have never 
heard of such a thing in Europe. Certainly there are many 
people among us today who believe in reincarnation. Maybe 
it is simply a sign of our [. . .] and barbarism that we don't 
think like that and are only just beginning to take such 
thoughts seriously. But in India, whose civilization is so 
much older than ours and where there is also a much 
greater inner culture, these ideas were arrived at very early 
and the Indians have never got out of them. They took 



382 



At the Basel Psychology Club 

them over from the age of primitives, for practically all 
primitives believe that there is a continuity within the tribe. 
Hence the amusing [custom] of certain Eskimos who put 
one of the grandfather's lice on the head of the grandchild, 
so that the soul substance of the grandfather shall be passed 
on to him. 

So you see, the matter is a bit complicated, but I hope 
you have understood what I mean. [Two members of the 
audience then relate examples of the transmigration of 
souls.] Individual instances like this certainly do exist but 
they are very uncommon. There is also an interesting story 
that allegedly happened in England. A house began to be 
haunted and the whole household was terribly frightened 
of the ghost. Now there was a society lady who had no 
connection with this house but had longed for years to own 
a certain house which she claimed was hers. She searched 
everywhere to find something answering to this description, 
saying she would buy it. Then she suddenly hit on this 
house, which was up for sale because it was haunted. And 
when she came the housekeeper opened the door and ran 
off with a shriek, and it turned out that she herself was the 
ghost who had been haunting the house for a long time 
because she had seen it in her imagination. So she got her 
house, or so the story goes. But — si non e verol 



Question 5: Can I help the spirit of my dead father by 
trying to live in accordance with the demands of the un- 
conscious? 

Yes, provided — one must always add — that the spirit of 
the dead father [remains a living idea]. I call this idea 
hygienic, because when I think that way everything is right 
in my psychic life and when I don't think that way every- 
thing goes wrong, then somewhere things don't click, at 
least in the biological sense. It's as if I ate something that 
rationally considered is harmless but it doesn't agree with 
me — I get the stomach ache. But if I eat something that 

383 



1958 

rationally considered is not good, it does agree with me so 
why shouldn't I eat it? It is even advisable to do so. For 
instance, for many people there is no harm in drinking a 
glass of red wine, while for others it is sheer poison and can 
have very bad consequences, but that doesn't mean that 
because it has bad consequences sometimes, one shouldn't 
drink wine. Rationally one can argue that the enjoyment of 
alcohol is harmful, but it is not true in general, only in 
certain cases. So it is much better that we do what agrees 
with us than what does not agree with us. It agrees with 
human beings to have ideas about things they cannot know. 
And if they have these ideas that suit them, they are better 
off psychologically. They feel better, they sleep better, have 
a better appetite, and that's the only criterion we have. It 
means a tremendous lot to people if they can assume their 
lives have an indefinite continuity; they live more sensibly, 
they don't need to hurry any more. They have centuries to 
waste, so why this senseless rush? But of course one always 
wants to know whether it is really so — as if anyone knew 
whether it is really so! We know nothing at all. Think of 
the physicists, they are the closest to reality, and yet they 
speak of models, of fields of probability. That's it, we just 
don't know. 

Question from the audience: But the fact that such a need 
exists — 
We have many needs! 

Yes, but just this one seems to indicate that something in the 
psyche proves that this idea — 

Yes, but now go and ask a rationalist, he will say, Quite, 
quite! And if you feel the need for a large income, what 
then? — This need exists too, or to own a fine car, but that 
doesn't prove he'll get it. We have many needs, you see. The 
existence of a need proves only that it should be satisfied, 
and from that we deduce that we ought to have just those 
ideas which correspond to this need. 



384 



At the Basel Psychology Club 

But for this need to arise, there must be something in it, 
li\e the psyche's striving towards a goal. 

Yes, but that still doesn't prove anything. It's like when 
you have a patient who says, I simply must have a fine 
car, or else. So you tell him, Then get one, go to it, work! 
That is his reality, but it proves nothing. Similarly, when 
someone says, I want to be immortal, that doesn't make him 
immortal. He has that need, but you can find many people 
who don't admit to any such need. And when you come to 
think of it, how frightful it would be to have to sit on a 
cloud for ten thousand years playing a harp! 

Now the idea of the spirit of the dead father is a tran- 
scendent idea, but it serves a purpose and I would call it 
"reasonable." It is reasonable to think that way. So sup- 
posing this spirit has a subjective existence, a consciousness 
of its own, then there also exists an ethical relation to what 
it is or what it wants or what it needs. And if I live in such 
a way that it helps this spirit, it is a moral achievement from 
which I can expect satisfaction. But the question we are 
being asked is: if I live in accordance with the demands of 
the unconscious. That is too general. In such a case I would 
say: What corresponds to the urgent need of the father 
should be compensated, not simply the unconscious — that's 
going too far. For instance, something the father has left 
unfinished. 7 Or the father appears to his daughter and tells 
her in a dream or in reality that he has buried a treasure 
somewhere which didn't belong to him, but was stolen 
property and she should give it back. These are situations 
that occur in reality. Or he tells her that he had a philosophy 
which actually made him unhappy and so the daughter 
must think differently. Only these specific relationships are 
really satisfactory. They must fit the real character of the 
father, then the corresponding reaction can be expected, in 
so far as these transcendent ideas are any use at all. This 
may be a quite ruthless question, but the real criterion is: 

7 Cf. Memories, Dreams, Reflections, p. 214/204. 

385 



1958 



Do they serve a purpose? Are they an advantage? For if 
they accomplish nothing, why should I have these ideas? 
But if I feel they are a positive advantage, then why 
shouldn't I have them? They cannot decide the issue one 
way or another, any more than we are in a position to 
understand actual reality and establish what it is: there are 
only fields of probability. There are average predictable 
phenomena and there are just as many that are unpredict- 
able — were it otherwise there would be no statistics! 

Question 6: May we assume that there is a connection be- 
tween dual predestination and synchronicity, and that 
experientially they are the same thing? The same as being 
in Tao — the simultaneous reality of spirit and matter, simul- 
taneously experienced with equal intensity, but always 
vibratingiike a compass needle? 
What do you mean by dual predestination? 

Answer from the audience: Karl Barth has rethought 
Calvin's predestination theory along new lines and says it is 
not, as Calvin said, that people are either rejected or ac- 
cepted from the very beginning, but that each person is both 
accepted at one moment and rejected at another. 

The theory of predestination has of course nothing to do 
with synchronicity. Synchronicity is a scientific concept and 
the predestination theory is a dogma. Synchronicity is a 
description of facts, whereas the predestination theory is 
riddled with contradictions. If predestination is true, then 
everything goes on as it must; there are some who are 
chosen to go to heaven, others are predestined to roast in 
hell and go down to the kitchen. If you fit the bill, you're 
chosen — or else the good Lord invalidates his own decree 
by suddenly sweeping up to heaven someone predestined 
for hell, or snatches someone down from heaven and sticks 
him in the pit. If you examine these things logically it is 
simply a juggling with words that has nothing to do with 
actuality. Dual predestination, indeed! So I am predestined 

386 



At the Basel Psychology Club 

for hell and predestined for heaven, and then suddenly, by 
a sleight of hand, I am either here or there. That is not a 
workable argument, it is a conjuring trick: you think the 
top hat is empty, and behold there is a white rabbit sitting 
ink! 



Member of the audience: / had hoped this was a point 
where depth psychology and theology could finally meet. 

Oh no, here we are not in agreement at all. Synchronicity 
states that a certain psychic event is paralleled by some 
external, non-psychic event and that there is no causal con- 
nection between them. It is a parallelism of meaning. That 
has nothing to do with the acrobatics of predestination. 
Theologians do perform the merriest pranks. One professor 
of theology reproached me for asserting, in contradiction to 
God's word, that a man must grow up and put aside 
childish things. Man, he said, must remain a child. Now it 
is precisely the teaching of the New Testament that one 
should not remain a child but become as a child. My view, 
he declared, was "en flagrant contradiction avec la parole du 
Maitre." So I sent him a postcard citing the Biblical pas- 
sages that say exactly the opposite. 8 The same is true of 
Catholics. A Jesuit father came to me, a very intelligent 
type, and said, I really can't understand you, you must ex- 
plain to me how you can assert that Christ and Mary were 
not human beings. I replied, But it is very simple. Accord- 
ing to the teaching of the Church you were born in sin, so 
was I, and all men, and that is how death came into the 
world. We are corruptible and have corruptible bodies, but 
Christ and Mary have incorruptible bodies. Therefore they 
were taken up to heaven in the body as was Elijah of old, 
and therefore they were not human beings. All men are 
mortal, all men are corruptible because of original sin. He 
had never thought of that ! He was so dumfounded that he 

8 For example: Matthew 18:3-5, Mark 10:15, Luke 18:17; a ^° 
I Cor. 13:11. 

387 



1958 



couldn't utter a word! There's the theologian for you— the 
general run o£ theological thinking is often simply incom- 
prehensible. Now can a theologian not notice that Christ 
and Mary according to dogma have an incorruptible body? 
That is a divine attribute, only gods have it, or demons, but 
not men. 

Question 7: What is the psychological difference between 
belief in a personal God and the concept of a divine im- 
personal principle? 

Men naturally have ideas about God, and as my dead 
friend Albert Oeri 9 quite rightly said, some imagine a good 
God, the conservatives imagine him as an elderly railway 
official with a beard, and the others as a little more gaseous. 
So it goes — we have all sorts of ideas of a personal father- 
god with a beard, and a universal "principle" which is 
really more than "gaseous" — much more abstract. It is 
simply the difference between an infantile idea and a philo- 
sophical one. Or, it is the difference between being per- 
sonally addressed, the personal encounter, and a general 
philosophical hypothesis. 

If one has an idea, that is to say a rationalized idea which 
has been discussed and reflected upon, it is always a paradox. 
As Kant has already pointed out, only antinomial state- 
ments can be made about transcendental positions. He 
exemplifies this by: God is, God is not. Thus every state- 
ment about God is also represented by its opposite. Hence 
God is personal, he is my Father, he is a universal principle. 
An infinity of statements is possible, all of them valid in so 
far as they also state the opposite. The antinomy of the 
statements is a proof of their honesty. But naturally one 
cannot form any such ideas of which it could seriously be 
said that they must be so, because their object is one which 
we cannot know unless we were God himself, and in so far 
as we are "God" we are speaking of our unconscious, being 



9 See above, p. 3. 



388 



At the Basel Psychology Club 

ourselves unconscious to the extent we are "God." Thus it is 
that all the statements we make about God are statements 
about the unconscious. It is local, it is universal, it is the 
One, it is the Many or the All, it is personal and impersonal 
because the unconscious appears to us in all these forms. 
One feels personally addressed by the unconscious — or one 
doesn't. 

Question 8: Have you ever met any people who have seen 
Ufos, and were they prepared to interpret this experience 
purely psychologically and not insist on the physical reality 
of the Ufos? 

I actually do know of four cases of people who have seen 
Ufos or said they did. They are not in the least prepared to 
interpret the Ufos psychologically. They are more inclined 
to ask me, Do you think this is psychological ? because for 
them it was felt as thoroughly real. 

There was, for instance, the case of a doctor in an Ameri- 
can city who together with many other people observed a 
Ufo for three-quarters of an hour in the form of a small 
silvery sphere or disc which then suddenly vanished. 
Knowing this man to be a regular camera fiend, I assumed 
he had taken a marvellous photo of this phenomenon. But 
astonishingly enough he hadn't, although he carried his 
camera with him, as always. 10 

Another man was driving with his wife over the Golden 
Gate bridge in San Francisco, when she saw in the west 
about twenty Ufos flying in the Pacific. She drew her hus- 
band's attention to them and he saw them too. The spheres 
or discs gleamed like silver in the sun. Both sent me eye- 
witness reports and some time later I saw the man per- 
sonally, whereupon he expressed his astonishment at my 
interest in such things. But this, you see, is also a contribu- 
tion to psychology. It is said that people who make the 
least fuss about these things are the most likely to see a Ufo. 

10 Cf. "Flying Saucers: A Modern Myth," CW 10, par. 613. 

389 



1958 

A former patient, now an analyst living in the southwest 
of America, also observed a silvery object in the sky for 
about four minutes, after which it vanished at great speed. 
She described it as "web-like" and as though sprayed with 
aluminum, so that one could make out its web-like struc- 
ture. She evidently wanted to convey that the object was 
lighter than metal. Not for a moment did she doubt that it 
was real — it was like seeing a bus passing — with no con- 
nection whatever with any kind of psychology, so that one 
is absolutely flummoxed and thinks these people must have 
seen something real. I have not concerned myself at all with 
the question of whether these things can be real and if so 
how. Ufos in dreams should be treated like any other 
dream image, they play exactly the same role. 

Question' 10 : Can our preoccupation with psychology and 
with Ufos be traced bac\ to a decline of the belief in God, 
as though this left a void which the unconscious had to fill? 
Yes, we feel uneasy and dissatisfied and insecure and 
now under modern political conditions we are naturally 
afraid also. And naturally we ask, What is the matter with 
man's psychology ? We cannot make anyone else responsible 
for what is happening in the world except man. There lies 
the great danger: why is man as he is? In our world 
miracles do not happen any more, and we feel that some- 
thing simply must happen which will provide an answer 
or show a way out. So now these Ufos are appearing in the 
skies. Although they have always been observed 11 they 
didn't signify anything. Now, suddenly, they seem to por- 
tend something because that something has been projected 
on them — a hope, an expectation. What sort of expectation 
you can see from the literature: it is of course the expecta- 
tion of a savior. But that is only one aspect. There is another 
aspect, a mythological one. The Ufo can be a ship of death, 
which means that ships of death are coming to fetch the 

11 Ibid., pars. 757ff. 



390 



At the Basel Psychology Club 

living or to bring souls. Either these souls will fall into 
birth, or many people are going to die and will be fetched 
by fleets of these ships of death. 12 These are important 
archetypal ideas, because they can also be predictions. If an 
atomic war were to break out, an infinite multitude of 
souls would be carried away from the earth. How one is to 
explain the Ufos in individual cases, I cannot say. It de- 
pends on the circumstances, on a dream, or on the person 
concerned. There is indeed a void in individuals now that 
we are beginning to discover that our belief in metaphysical 
explanations has grown enfeebled. In the Middle Ages the 
Ufos would have been taken for divine manifestations, but 
we must say with Goethe: "For all our wisdom, Tegel still 
is haunted." 13 

12 Ibid., pars. 697-99, 7 02- 3' 

13 Cf. "The Meaning of Psychology for Modern Man," CW 10, 
par. 309. Faust, Part One (trans. P. Wayne, Penguin Books), p. 178. 



391 



TALKS WITH MIGUEL SERRANO. 
1959 



************ 



In 1947, the Chilean diplomat and writer Miguel Serrano first 
read a book of Jung's, which he had taken along on a trip to 
the Antarctic, and during the next ten years, while living in 
India, he simultaneously studied Jung and yoga. In 1957 he 
first wrote to Jung (meanwhile, he had become Chile's am- 
bassador to India), and finally, on February 28, 1959, Jung 
invited Serrano to visit him at the Hotel Esplanade, in Locarno, 
where he liked to go for rest and a change of scene. Serrano and 
Jung talked (in English) in a quiet corner of the hotel lobby. 

Serrano's account of his meetings with Jung is in his book 
C. G. Jung and Hermann Hesse: A Record of Two Friend- 
ships, translated from the Spanish by Frank MacShane (Lon- 
don and New York, 1966). Here the conversation has been 
recast in dialogue form and slightly abridged. 



I understand you have just come from India. I was there 
some time ago, trying to convince the Hindus that it is 
impossible to get rid of the idea of the ego or of conscious- 
ness, even in the deepest state of samadhi. When I was at 
the University of Calcutta in Bengal, I discussed this matter 
with various Brahman doctors and professors, but they 
were unable to understand. I tried to explain to them that 
if Ramakrishna, for example, had been able to get rid of his 
consciousness completely in his moments of profound 
ecstasy, then those very moments would have been non- 
existent. He would never have been able to remember them 
or to record them, or even to consider them as having any 
existence at all. 1 

1 Cf. "The Holy Men of India," CW 11. 



392 



Tal\s with Miguel Serrano 

(As he talked, I realized that I would have to \eep myself 
very conscious of the moments that were passing between 
us, and I tried to be as observant as possible. I noticed that 
in addition to the energy which radiated from him while he 
talked, there was also in him a certain \indness, although 
it was sometimes mixed with a sense of irony, or even of 
sarcasm. Yet above all, I was aware of a certain air of ab- 
sence or mystery about him, for I foew that this kjnd man 
was quite capable of transforming himself into a cruel and 
destructive being if, by chance, certain of the extremes 
within him happened to fuse. His eyes were penetratingly 
observant; they seemed to see beyond his glasses, and per- 
haps beyond time. I had seen a number of photographs of 
Jung showing him during his youth and mature years, but 
nothing connected those photographs with the person with 
whom 1 was sitting. I was struck with this transformation, 
for Jung now looked like an ancient alchemist. His hands 
were knotty, and on the ring finger of his left hand there 
was a darl^ stone mounted in gold and inscribed with 
strange characters.) 

Since the unconscious really means the not-conscious, 
nobody can gain that state while he is alive, and be able to 
remember it afterwards, as the Hindus claim. In order to 
remember, one must have a conscious spectator, who is the 
self or the conscious being. I discussed all this with the 
Maharaja of Mysore's guru. 

/ have always thought that the Hindu tries to get rid of the 
ego in order to escape from the wheel of samsara; eternity 
for him would be like a continuous state of insomnia, and 
he therefore wants to blend himself into the concept of the 
Whole. That is what the modern Hindu wants, but as you 
know the Siddhas tried something quite different. Now I 
understand that you wish to establish a dialogue between 
the ego and that which transcends it, and that you wish to 
project the light of consciousness more and more into the 



393 



1959 

unconscious . . . and that as a consequence you talk about 
the collective unconscious; and I understand that by the law 
of polarity, a collective conscious may also exist or even a 
superconscious . Do you think that this is perhaps the state 
to which the Hindu refers and to which he aspires when he 
undergoes samadhi or, even more forcefully, kaivalya? 
Perhaps to gain that state, to reach the superconscious, one 
has to get rid of everyday rational consciousness. Thus the 
difficulty between yourself and the Hindus may merely be 
one of misunderstanding, or a failure to realize what the 
Hindu really means when he says that he wishes to over- 
come the ego. 

That may well be, for the Hindus are notoriously weak 
in rational exposition. They think for the most part in 
parables or images. They are not interested in appealing to 
reason. That, of course, is a basic condition of the Orient as 
a whole. ... As for your hypothesis about the supercon- 
scious, that is a metaphysical concept and as a consequence 
outside of my interests. I wish to proceed solely on facts and 
experiences. So far, I have found no stable or definite center 
in the unconscious and I don't believe such a center exists. I 
believe that the thing which I call self is an ideal center, 
equidistant between the ego and the unconscious, and it is 
probably equivalent to the maximum natural expression of 
individuality, in a state of fulfillment or totality. As nature 
aspires to express itself, so does man, and the self is that 
dream of totality. It is therefore an ideal center, something 
created. The Hindus have written wisely on this point. 
According to the Sankhya philosophers, the purusha is the 
self, and the atman may be similar to it. But the definition 
always takes the form of a parable. Do you know the story 
of the disciple who went to visit his Master to ask him 
what the atman was? The Master replied, "It is everything." 
But the disciple persisted: "Is it the Maharaja's elephant?" 
"Yes," answered the Master, "you are the atman and so is 
the Maharaja's elephant." After that, the disciple departed 



394 



Talks with Miguel Serrano 

very satisfied. On his way back, he met the Maharaja's 
elephant, but he did not move out of the road because he 
thought that if he and the elephant were both atman, then 
the elephant would recognize him. Even when the elephant 
driver shouted at him to move, he refused to do so, and so 
the elephant picked him up with his trunk and threw him 
to the side. The next day, covered with bruises, the disciple 
once again called on his Master and said, "You told me that 
the elephant and I were both atman, and now look what it 
has done to me." The Master remained perfectly calm and 
asked the disciple what the elephant driver had told him. 
"To get out of the way," answered the disciple. "You 
should have done what he told you to do," said the Master, 
"because the elephant driver is also atman." Thus the Hin- 
dus have an answer for everything. They know a great deal. 

The Hindus live entirely in symbols. They are penetrated 
and interpenetrated by them, but they don't interpret them, 
nor do they like anyone else to interpret them, since that 
would be like destroying them. I think that is why your 
wor\ is not much known or discussed in India, even though 
you have devoted so much time to its culture and to the 
Orient in general. You interpret symbols. On the other 
hand, you are very well known and widely read in my own 
country. 

I know, I am always receiving letters from Chile and 
from other countries in South America, and that surprises 
me, since all of my work has been directed towards myself; 
all of the books that I have written are but by-products of 
an intimate process of individuation, even when they are 
connected by hermetic links to the past and, in all proba- 
bility, to the future. But since they are not supposed to be 
popular, and are not directed towards the masses, I am 
somewhat frightened by the sudden success I have had 
here and there. I am afraid it is not good, because real work 
is completed in silence and strikes a chord in the minds of 



395 



1959 

only a very few. There is an old Chinese saying which 
states that if a man sitting alone in his own room thinks 
the right thoughts, he will be heard thousands of miles 
away. 

Yes, India is an extraordinarily interesting country, and 
you should live that experience right, and you should live 
it intensely until the hour comes. I also wanted to confront 
that universe and, as a product of the Christian West, to 
use it to test my own ways and to give life to those zones 
within me which correspond to those of the Hindus, but 
which in the West for the most part remain dormant. And 
that is why I went to India in 1938. 2 Let me tell you what 
I now think of that country, and you can correct me later. 

So far as I can see, an Indian, so long as he remains an 
Indian, doesn't thin\ — at least in the same way we do. 
Rather, he perceives a thought. In this way, the Indian ap- 
proximates primitive ways of thinking. I don't say that the 
Indian is primitive, but merely that the processes of his 
thought remind me of primitive methods of producing 
thoughts. Primitive reasoning is in essence an unconscious 
function which only perceives immediate results. We can 
only hope to find that kind of reasoning in a civilization 
which has progressed virtually without interruption from 
primitive times. Our natural evolution in Western Europe 
was broken by the introduction of a psychology and spiri- 
tuality that had developed from a civilization higher than 
our own. We were interrupted at the very beginning when 
our beliefs were still barbarously polytheistic, and these 
beliefs were forced underground and have remained there 
for the last two thousand years. That, I believe, explains 
the divisiveness that is found in the Western mind. Still in 
a primitive state, we were forced to adopt the comparatively 
sophisticated doctrines of Christian grace and love. A dis- 
sociation was thus produced in Western man between the 

2 The visit is described in Memories, Dreams, Reflections, ch. IX, 
iv. 



39 6 



Tal\s with Miguel Serrano 

conscious and the unconscious part of his mentality. The 
conscious mind was undoubtedly freed from irrationality 
and instinctive impulses, but total individuality was lost. 
Western man became someone divided between his con- 
scious and unconscious personality. The conscious per- 
sonality could always be domesticated because it was sep- 
arated from the primitive; and as a consequence we in the 
West have come to be highly disciplined, organized, and 
rational. On the other hand, having allowed our uncon- 
scious personality to be suppressed, we are excluded from 
an understanding or appreciation of the primitive man's 
education and civilization. Nevertheless, our unconscious 
personality still exists and occasionally erupts in an uncon- 
trolled fashion. Thus we are capable of relapsing into the 
most shocking barbarisms, and the more successful we 
become in science and technology the more diabolical are 
the uses to which we put our inventions and discoveries. 
But to make man aware of his conscious side is not the 
only way to civilize him, and in any case, is not the ideal 
way. A far more satisfactory approach would be to consider 
man as a whole instead of considering his various parts. 
What is needed is to call a halt to the fatal dissociation that 
exists between man's higher and lower being; instead, we 
must unite conscious man with primitive man. In India we 
can find a civilization which has incorporated everything 
that is essential to primitivism, and as a consequence we 
find man considered as a whole. The civilization and 
psychology of India are well represented in their temples, 
because these temples represent the universe. I make this 
point in particular in order to explain what I mean by not 
thinking. What I mean is simply that, thank God, there is 
still a man who has not learned how to think, but who still 
perceives his thoughts as though they were visions or living 
beings, and who perceives his gods as though they were 
visible thoughts, based on instinctive reality. He has made 
peace with his gods, and they live with him. It is true that 



397 



1959 



the life he leads is close to nature. It is full of hope, of 
brutality, misery, sickness, and death; nevertheless, it has a 
completeness, a satisfaction, and an emotional beauty which 
is unfathomable. Undoubtedly, the logic of this civilization 
is imperfect, and thus we see fragments of Western science 
side by side with what we call superstition. But if these 
contradictions are improbable to us, they are not to the 
Indians. If these contradictions exist, they are merely the 
peculiarities of autonomous thought and are responsible 
only to themselves. The Indian himself is not responsible 
for these contradictions, since his thought comes to him. 
This phenomenon is illustrated by the Indian's lack of in- 
terest in the details of the universe. He is only interested in 
having a vision of totality. But alas, he does not realize that 
the living, world can be destroyed in a struggle between 
two concepts. 

Yes, that is what India is li\e. It is a great natural civiliza- 
tion, or rather, a civilization of nature. Indeed, it could be 
said of all of the Orient that, at least until very recently, it 
has not tried to dominate nature, but to respect its laws and 
to understand them — to give them a meaning. Nevertheless, 
it has no sense of persona; it only knows the archetype. I 
realize, of course, that the idea of personality is not neces- 
sarily good; perhaps it's quite the opposite. 

Yes, India is archetypal. And that is why I made no 
plans to visit swamis or gurus when I went to India; I 
didn't even go to see Ramana Maharshi, 3 who had so inter- 
ested Somerset Maugham, because I felt that it was not 

3 Jung, however, edited Der Weg zum Selbst (1944), a collection 
of the Maharshi's writings translated from English by Heinrich 
Zimmer. It has an introduction by Jung, reprinted in CW 11 as 
"The Holy Men of India," in which he develops the ideas in the 
above paragraph. 

W. Somerset Maugham (1874-1965), the English writer, was also 
in India in 1938. In A Writer's Notebook (1949), pp. 250-76, he 
relates his experiences while there, including (pp. 273^) a brief 
account of meeting an unidentified holy man, evidently Ramana 

398 



Tal\s with Miguel Serrano 

necessary to do so. I knew what a swami was; I had an 
exact idea of his archetype; and that was enough to know 
them all, especially in a world where extreme personal 
differentiation doesn't exist as it does in the West. We have 
more variety, but it's only superficial. 

You said, Dr. Jung, that you went to India in order to know 
yourself better. I went to do something like that myself, be- 
cause I want to discover what we South Americans are. We 
are neither Asian nor are we Europeans. You have said that 
the Hindu doesn't think his thoughts, and 1 take that to 
mean that he doesn't think with his mind, with his brain, 
but that his thoughts are produced in some other center of 
his being. Do you think that is possible? It has always 
seemed to me that we South Americans do not think from 
the rational center, but from some other one, and conse- 
quently, our first task * s to discover what that other center 
is, so that we can begin to understand our own being. 
Where do you suppose this center is located? Do you think 
we should take seriously the hypothesis of the chakras 4 — 
the psychic centers of yoga? 

Your question is very interesting. I once remember 
having a conversation with the chief of the Pueblo Indians, 
whose name was Ochwiay Biano, which means Mountain 
Lake. He gave me his impressions of the white man, and 
he said that they were always upset, always looking for 
something, and that as a consequence their faces were lined 
with wrinkles, which he took to be a sign of eternal restless- 



Maharshi, at Tiruvannamalai, near Madras. In Points of View (1958), 
Maugham devotes a lengthy essay, "The Saint," to the Maharshi, by 
name, with a fuller account of their meeting and many vivid bio- 
graphical details. 

4 For a detailed study of the chakya system see Arthur Avalon, 
The Serpent Power (Madras and London), 1931. Also Jung, "The 
Realities of Practical Psychotherapy," CW 16, 2nd edn., appendix, 
pars. 560-62, and Joseph Campbell, The Mythic Image (1975), pp. 
330-80. 



399 



1959 

ness. Ochwiay Biano also thought that the whites were 
crazy since they maintained that they thought with their 
heads, whereas it was well known that only crazy people 
did that. This assertion by the chief of the Pueblos so sur- 
prised me that I asked him how he thought. He answered 
that he naturally thought with his heart. 5 And that is how 
the ancient Greeks also thought. 

That is extraordinary. The Japanese, you know, consider 
the center of the person to be in the solar plexus. But do you 
believe that white people think with their heads? 

No. They think only with their tongues. They think only 
with words, with words which today have replaced the 
Logos. 

But what about the chakras, Doctor, what do you think, 
about them? Some peope claim that they correspond to the 
plexes of Western science. At the very least, they seem to be 
located in the same places as the plexes are. Of course the 
Tantric yogis say that the chakras and the nadis are psychic 
centers, rather than physiological or physical, and that they 
are located along a "vertebral column" which is also psychic. 
Thus the chakras only exist potentially; they come into 
being only by an act of the will, usually through the prac- 
tice of yoga. Perhaps they are something like the self, 
which you mentioned a few moments ago — something which 
must be created. In any event, many questions remain to be 
answered about that ancient Oriental science, and many of 
the techniques now seem to be lost, perhaps in some huge 
cataclysm which overtook their civilization. 

The chakras are centers of consciousness, and Kundalini, 
the Fiery Serpent, which is to be found at the base of the 
spine, is an emotional current that runs along the spine, 
uniting what is below with what is above, and vice versa. 
[Pause.] I am very old now, and am losing my memory. . . . 

5 Cf. Memories, Dreams, Reflections, ch. IX, ii. 



400 



Talks with Miguel Serrano 

Starting from the bottom, at the base of the vertebral 
column is the muladhara chakraf then in the solar plexus 
comes the manipura; after that there is the anahata, which 
is in the heart, the vishudda, which is in the throat, the 
ajna, which is found at a point between the eyebrows, and 
finally there is the Brahma-chakra, which is the coronary 
chakra. 7 These locations are useful only to give you an idea 
of what I mean. The chakras are centers of consciousness. 
The lower ones represent animal consciousness, and there 
are even others below the muladhara. 

1 suppose that if we were able to activate all of these centers, 
we would then achieve totality. Still, that would probably 
bring about the end of history, which seems to be like a 
pendular movement from one chakra to another. That is to 
say, each civilization seems to express a particular chakra, 
and different types of consciousness exist in various parts of 
the world and at various times. Can you define your concept 
of the self and what you believe to be the real center of 
personality? 

The self is a circle whose center is everywhere and whose 
circumference is nowhere. 8 And do you know what the 
self is for Western man? It is Christ, for Christ is the arche- 
type of the hero, representing man's highest aspiration. All 
this is very mysterious and at times frightening. 



Serrano traveled on from Locarno to Montagnola, near Lugano, 
where he visited Hermann Hesse. Subsequendy, May 5, 1959, 
Serrano was in Zurich and telephoned Jung's secretary, Aniela 
Jaffe, to ask for an appointment. Jung invited him to come that 
afternoon at 4 o'clock. 

6 This chokya is followed by the svadhisthana, localized near the 
bladder. 

7 Otherwise called sahasrara, localized at the top of the skull. 

8 See above, p. 216, n. 7. 



401 



1959 

On his previous meeting, Serrano had given Jung a copy in 
typescript of an English translation of a story, "The Visit of the 
Queen of Sheba," later published in book form (see below, 
p. 462). 



Your story about the Queen of Sheba is more like a poem 
than an ordinary tale. The affair of the King and the Queen 
of Sheba seems to contain everything; it has a truly nou- 
menal quality. But if you should ever meet the Queen of 
Sheba in the flesh, beware of marrying her. The Queen of 
Sheba is only for a magic kind of love, never for matrimony. 
If you were to marry her, you would both be destroyed and 
your soul would disintegrate. 

/ know. 

In my long psychiatric experience I never came across a 
marriage that was entirely self-sufficient. Once I thought I 
had, because a German professor assured me that his was. 
I believed him until once, when I was visiting in Berlin, I 
discovered that his wife kept a secret apartment. That seems 
to be the rule. Moreover, a marriage which is devoted en- 
tirely to mutual understanding is bad for the development 
of individual personality; it is a descent to the lowest com- 
mon denominator, which is something like the collective 
stupidity of the masses. Inevitably, one or the other will 
begin to penetrate the mysteries. Look, it's like this. 

(Jung then picked up a box of matches and opened it. He 
separated the two halves and placed them on a table so that 
at a distance they looked the same. He then brought them 
together until the drawer of the box entered the shell.) 

That's how it is. The two halves appear equal, but in fact 
they are not. Nor should they be, since one should always 
be able to include the other or, if you like, remain outside of 
the other. Ideally, the man should contain the woman and 
remain outside of her. But it's a question of degree, and the 



402 



Tal\s with Miguel Serrano 

homosexual is fifty-five per cent feminine. Basically speak- 
ing, however, man is polygamous. The people of the Mus- 
sulman Empire knew that very well. Nevertheless, marry- 
ing several women at the same time is a primitive solution, 
and would be rather expensive today. 

I think the French have found the solution in the Num- 
ber Three. Frequently this number occurs in magic mar- 
riages such as your encounter with the Queen of Sheba. It is 
something quite different from Freud's sexual interpreta- 
tions or from D. H. Lawrence's ideas. Freud was wrong, 
for example, in his interpretation of incest, which, in Egypt, 
was primarily religious and had to do with the process of 
individuation. In reality, the King was the individual, and 
the people were merely an amorphous mass. Thus the King 
had to marry his mother or his sister in order to protect and 
preserve individuality in the country. Lawrence exaggerated 
the importance of sex because he was excessively influenced 
by his mother; he over-emphasized women because he was 
still a child and was unable to integrate himself in the 
world. People like him frequently suffer from respiratory 
illnesses which are primarily adolescent. Another curious 
case is that of Saint-Exupery: 9 from his wife I learned 
many important details about him. Flight, you see, is really 
an act of evasion, an attempt to escape from the earth. But 
the earth must be accepted and admitted, perhaps even sub- 
limated. That is frequently illustrated in myth and religion. 
The dogma of the Assumption of Mary is in fact an accept- 
ance of matter; indeed it is a sanctification of matter. 10 If 
you were to analyze dreams, you would understand this 
better. But you can see it also in alchemy. It's a pity we have 
no alchemical texts written by women, for then we would 

9 Antoine de Saint-Exupery ( 1900-1944) , French aviator, author of 
Night Flight, The Little Prince, and Wind, Sand, and Stars. 

10 Cf. "A Psychological Approach to the Dogma of the Trinity," 
CW 11, pars. 251-52, and "Answer to Job," ibid., par. 743, n. 4, and 
pars. 748ft. 



403 



1959 

know something essential about the visions of women, 
which are undoubtedly different from those of men. 

Do you thin\ it wise to analyze one's own dreams and to 
pay attention to them? I have talked with Krishnamurti, in 
India, and he told me that dreams have no real importance, 
and that the only important thing is to look, to be conscious 
and totally aware of the moment. He told me that he never 
dreams. He said that because he loo\s with both his con- 
scious and unconscious mind, he has nothing left over for 
dreams, and that when he sleeps he gains complete rest. 

Yes, that is possible for a time. Some scientists have told 
me that when they were concentrating with all their atten- 
tion on a particular problem, they no longer dreamed. And 
then, for some unexplained reason, they began to dream 
again. But fo return to your question about the importance 
of analyzing your own dreams, it seems to me that the only 
important thing is to follow nature. A tiger should be a 
good tiger; a tree, a good tree. So man should be man. But 
to know what man is, one must follow nature and go on 
alone, admitting the importance of the unexpected. Still, 
nothing is possible without love, not even the processes of 
alchemy, for love puts one in a mood to risk everything and 
not to withhold important elements. 

(Jung then rose and too\ a volume from the bookcase. It 
was his own Archetypes and the Collective Unconscious 
[CW 9 i], and he opened it at an essay called "A Study in 
the Process of Individuation." He showed me the extraor- 
dinary plates that are reproduced there, some of Tibetan 
tanfas.) 

These were made by a woman with whom we planned a 
process of individuation for almost ten years. She was an 
American and had a Scandinavian mother. 

(He pointed to one picture [no. i/f\ done in bright colors. 
In the center was a flower, rather li\e a four-leaf clover, 



404 



Talks with Miguel Serrano 

and above it were drawn a king and queen who were taking 
part in a mystic wedding, holding fire in their hands. There 
were towers in the background.) 

The process of the mystic wedding involves various 
stages and is open to innumerable risks, like the Opus 
Alquimia. For this union is in reality a process of mutual 
individuation, which occurs, in cases like this, in both the 
doctor and the patient. 

(As he spoke of this magic love and alchemical wedding, I 
thought of Solomon and the Queen of Sheba, Christ and 
his Church, and of Shiva and Parvati on the summit of 
Mount Kailas — all symbols of man and his soul and of the 
creation of the Androgynous. Jung went on as though he 
were tal\ing to himself.) 

Somewhere there was once a Flower, a Stone, a Crystal, 
a Queen, a King, a Palace, a Lover, and his Beloved, and 
this was long ago, on an Island somewhere in the ocean five 
thousand years ago. . . . Such is Love, the Mystic Flower of 
the Soul. This is the center, the self. . . . 

(Jung spoke as though he were in a trance.) 

Nobody understands what I mean. Only a poet could 
begin to understand 

You are a poet. And that woman, is she still alive? 
She died eight years ago. ... I am very old. . . . 

(/ realized that the interview should end. I showed Jung 
some drawings of Hesse and gave him greetings from Step- 
penwolf.) 

I met Hesse through a mutual friend, who was interested 
in myths and symbols. His friend worked with me for a 
while, but he was unable to follow through to the end. The 
path is very difficult. . . . 1X 

II The "friend" is Hesse himself, whom Jung refrained from 
identifying as a patient. For Hesse's analysis with Jung, see Jung, 
Letters, ed. G. Adler, vol. 1, pp. 573-76. 



405 



A VISIT FROM LINDBERGH 



In the summer of 1959, Charles A. Lindbergh (1 902-1 974) and 
his wife Anne Morrow Lindbergh were spending their vaca- 
tion in Switzerland. They went to see Mrs. Lindbergh's 
publishers, Kurt and Helen Wolff, who were residing at that 
time in Zurich. Kurt Wolff had persuaded Jung to work with 
Aniela Jaffe on the composition of his autobiography, and the 
Wolffs saw Jung from time to time in order to discuss the 
work in progress. On August 2, the Wolffs invited the Lind- 
berghs to go along with them on a visit to Jung at his 
Bollingen retreat. In a letter of December n, 1968, to Helen 
Wolff, Lindbergh set down his recollection of the visit. 

Jung had become interested in the phenomenon of flying 
saucers, or unidentified flying objects, in the early 1950's, had 
replied to written questions by Georg Gerster on the subject 
in 1954, 1 and published his own book in 1958. 2 In a statement 
that Jung issued to United Press International in August 1958, 
after the report had been spread by the press that he believed 
the "Ufos" to be physically real, Jung stated: "This report is 
altogether false. ... I cannot commit myself on the question 
of the physical reality or unreality of the Ufos since I do not 
possess sufficient evidence either for or against. I therefore 
concern myself solely with the psychological aspect of the 
phenomenon. . . ." 3 



... I looked forward, especially, to the possibility of listen- 
ing to Jung talk about "flying saucers," for I knew he was 
deeply interested in them. 
I recall Jung talking about the depths of the lake at our 

1 In Weltwoche (Zurich), July 9, 1954. See "On Flying Saucers," 
CW 18, pars. 1431-44. 

2 Flying Saucers: A Modern Myth of Things Seen in the Skies 
(orig., 1958; tr. R.F.C. Hull, 1959; CW 10). 

3 CW 18, par. 1445. 

406 



A Visit from Lindbergh 

side, and relating these depths to the human subconscious. 
We were sitting together in a small room, you, Kurt, Jung, 
Anne, and I. Finally, the conversation shifted to "flying 
saucers." I had expected a fascinating discussion about 
psychological aspects of the numerous and recurring flying- 
saucer reports. To my astonishment, I found that Jung 
accepted flying saucers as factual. On the one hand, he 
didn't seem in the least interested in psychological aspects. 
On the other, he didn't seem at all interested in factual 
information relating to the investigation of flying-saucer 
reports. 

When I told Jung that the U. S. Air Force had investi- 
gated hundreds of reported flying-saucer sightings without 
finding the slightest evidence of supernatural phenomena, 
it was obvious that he did not wish to pursue the subject 
farther. He asked me how I accounted for recent flying- 
saucer reports in Europe — especially a series of sightings 
along an apparently straight line of flying-saucer flight. He 
referred to Donald Keyhoe's book about flying saucers. 4 
I told Jung that, while I had not seen Keyhoe in recent 
years, I had known him intimately many years ago. (Key- 
hoe accompanied me, in another plane, when I made a 
three-month tour of the United States in the "Spirit of St. 
Louis," in 1927, under the auspices of the Daniel Guggen- 
heim Fund for the Promotion of Aeronautics. He and I 
usually occupied the same suite of rooms at the hotels 
where I stopped.) 5 



I told Jung that, to substantiate the claims he made about 
the reality of flying saucers, Keyhoe, in the early chapters of 

4 In a recent communication, Major Donald E. Keyhoe says that 
either Flying Saucers from Outer Space (New York, 1953; London, 
1954) or The Flying Saucer Conspiracy (New York, 1955; London, 
1957) is referred to here. 

5 Keyhoe wrote a book about this, too: Flying with Lindbergh 
(New York, 1928). 



407 



1959 

his book, cited alleged reports that the British De Havilland 
Comets which disintegrated in air had been reported hit 
by "unidentified flying objects." 6 I said that I had been in 
close contact with the De Havilland Company and its engi- 
neers at the time, because Pan American Airways had on 
order and option a number of Comets, and I was a con- 
sultant to Pan American in this field. I told him that the 
cause of disintegration was fuselage rupture resulting from 
fatigue and inadequate basic design, and that in my confer- 
ences with De Havilland personnel and other engineers 
concerned, no mention had ever been made of "unidenti- 
fied flying objects." 

I also mentioned to Jung the high-level Pentagon confer- 
ence cited by Keyhoe, again in the early chapters of his 
book, to substantiate his claims about the reality of flying 
saucers. Keyhoe wrote that this conference had been called 
because of the alarm caused by flying saucers and their 
sightings, that it was highly secret, and that the officials 
attending the conference felt the situation was so alarming 
and serious that the information discussed should be with- 
held from public knowledge. I told Jung I had been work- 
ing closely with the Air Force, as a consultant, at the time, 
and that Pentagon officials were not alarmed by reports on 
flying saucers, but astonished at the stories they read about 
flying saucers in the newspapers. The conference was called 
as a result of the plea, "For God's sake, somebody tell us 
what it's all about." It was not a secret conference. 

So far as I could judge, Jung showed not the slightest 
interest in these facts. 

I then described a discussion on flying-saucer reports I 
had carried on with General Spaatz (an old friend and 
Chief of the United States Air Force). I had, laughingly, 
asked Spaatz how I could persuade one of my sons that the 

8 Keyhoe says that in Flying Saucers from Outer Space, pp. 1-2, 
he gave the official report that only one Comet disintegrated after 
being hit by an "unidentified flying body." 



408 



A Visit from Lindbergh 

flying-saucer reports he had read in a Reader's Digest article 
were not true. Spaatz, in his dryly humorous way, had 
replied: "Slim, don't you suppose that if there was anything 
true about this flying-saucer business, you and I would 
have heard about it by this time?" 

To this, Jung replied: There are a great many things 
going on around this earth that you and General Spaatz 
don't know about. 

Thereafter, I departed from the subject of flying saucers. 
I can't believe that Jung was as uninterested in either psy- 
chological aspects or facts relating to flying saucers as the 
Bollingen meeting made it appear to me. I wonder if there 
wasn't some reason that day for his not wanting to talk 
about the subject, even though I can't explain in my own 
mind what it would be. I was fascinated by Jung. One 
intuitively feels the elements of mysticism and greatness 
about him — even though they may have been mixed, at 
times, with elements of charlatanism. I liked Anne's not 
unadmiring description of Jung as "an old wizard." In the 
highest sense, he seemed like that to me in the wizard set- 
ting of lakeside Bollingen. And in this instance, the "Old 
Wizard" just didn't open his mind to me on the subject 
of flying saucers. 

It was a great experience for us, that visit with you and 
Kurt to Bollingen, one Anne and I are deeply grateful for 
and will never forget. Jung was such an extraordinary man, 
surely one of our time's great geniuses. My admiration and 
respect for him remain, and I continue to find tremendous 
stimulation in his writings; but I approach his statements 
and conclusions with even greater caution than in the past. 

I realize I have used the term "fact" loosely, as though 
the physical and psychological could be completely sepa- 
rated, as though the real and the intangible have no rela- 
tionship in essence. In a sense, every concept forms its own 
reality, and with this sense in mind, I think a more inter- 
esting discussion might have taken place with Jung. 



409 



ON THE FRONTIERS OF 
KNOWLEDGE 



t I I t I I I M I 



This interview conducted by the French-Swiss writer Georges 
Duplain was first published in the Gazette de Lausanne, Sep- 
tember 4-8, 1959, as the conclusion of a series of articles by 
Duplain, "Aux frontieres de la connaissance," discussing Jung's 
book Flying Saucers: A Modern Myth of Things Seen in the 
S^y (orig. 1958). The articles and interview were reissued that 
same year by the Gazette as a pamphlet with a preface by Jung, 
also given here. The interview, with interpolations by Duplain 
citing Jung's writings, was published in Spring, i960, in a 
translation 'by Jane A. Pratt, which translation is by her cour- 
tesy reproduced here but without the interpolations. A few 
omitted passages have been restored. 



Preface 

I am particularly grateful to Georges Duplain for having 
published a series of articles in the Gazette de Lausanne 
which are truly remarkable for their penetration and lucid- 
ity. Ordinarily my books are treated rather superficially by 
the press, and little attempt is made to get at their deeper 
meaning. This is true not only of the daily papers but also 
of scientific journals. Georges Duplain goes way beyond 
this sort of reporting. He is interested in the very essence 
of the subject under discussion and its relevance to our 
times. I greatly appreciate this attitude as well as that of 
the Gazette de Lausanne, which has always seen to it that 
my writings were fairly appraised. 

The principal theme examined in this series of articles is 
a very strange one. It concerns the bizarre and doubtful 
apparitions of objects which seem to move through our 



410 



On the Frontiers of Knowledge 

atmosphere. It is surmised that they may come from other 
planets. It is extremely difficult to obtain reliable proofs of 
their objective existence, but there are none the less more 
than ordinary reasons for examining them more closely. 

For whether these apparitions have a physical reality or 
not, they are in any case psychic realities, if only because 
they have given rise to copious discussions and to a whole 
literature. Even if there is nothing physically tangible about 
these phenomena, the rumor of the existence of such ob- 
jects is an incontestable fact. Whether the rumor cor- 
responds to a physical reality or not makes little difference 
to a psychologist. For him the interesting thing is to know 
why the human mind creates such products, because that 
throws particular light on the activity of our unconscious. 
The rumor is itself an extremely valuable source of in- 
formation, since we discover in it new aspects of uncon- 
scious psychic activity. Experiences of this kind are especial- 
ly important because some people still deny the existence of 
the unconscious part of the psyche, and even those who do 
admit its existence find themselves in the greatest per- 
plexity as to how it should be understood. The universal 
spread of this rumor thus gives us a most valuable opportu- 
nity to penetrate more deeply into the still very controversial 
nature of psychic phenomena. 

In taking the trouble to write such a thoughtful report, 
Georges Duplain has done a service not only to the inter- 
ested public but to our psychological knowledge in general. 

C. G. Jung 

Interview 

/ am astonished that you should be willing to see a jour- 
nalist when so many of your own medical followers cannot 
get near you! 

I am astonished, too, to see you here; that a journalist 
should want to see me — ever since the business of the flying 



411 



1959 



saucers arose, they have been trying to pass me off as senile ! 
But I must say that the French Swiss behave relatively 
well. I have met with a surprising understanding on your 
part. 

As far as the flying saucers go I haven't much to add. I 
have received quantities of new documents since my book 
appeared; 1 they don't make the matter any clearer but they 
show more and more how important it is. Oh, there's an 
immense amount to this phenomenon. 

You spea\ of a change of era, of a new Platonic month, of 
the passage into another sign of the zodiac? What do you 
mean by that, what reality do such constellations have? 

People don't like you to talk about that, you will get your- 
self laughed at. Nobody has read Plato — you haven't either. 
Yet he is 6ne of those who have come closest to the truth. 
The influence of the constellations, the zodiac, they exist; 
you cannot explain why, it's a "Just-So Story," that proves 
itself by a thousand signs. But men always go from one 
extreme to the other, either they don't believe, or they are 
credulous, any knowledge or faith can be ridiculed on the 
basis of what small minds do with it. That's stupid and, 
above all, it's dangerous. The great astrological periods do 
exist. Taurus and Gemini were prehistoric periods, we don't 
know much about them. But Aries the Ram is closer; Alex- 
ander the Great was one of its manifestations. 3 That was 
from 2000 b.c. to the beginning of the Christian era. With 
that era we came into the sign of the Fishes. It was not I 
who invented all the fish symbols there are in Christianity: 
the fisher of men, the pisciculi christianorum.* Christianity 
has marked us deeply because it incarnates the symbols of 

1 "Flying Saucers: A Modern Myth," CW io. 

2 Ibid., par. 589. 

3 The Arabic name for Alexander was Dhulqarnein, "two- 
horned." Cf. Symbols of Transformation, CW 5, par. 283, n. 32, 
also PI. XXa. 

* Cf. Aion, CW 9 ii, par. 148. 



412 



On the Frontiers of Knowledge 

the era so well. It goes wrong in so far as it believes itself 
to be the only truth; when what it is is one of the great 
expressions of truth in our time. To deny it would be to 
throw the baby out with the bathwater. What comes next ? 
Aquarius, the Water-pourer, the falling of water from one 
place to another. And the little fish 6 receiving the water 
from the pitcher of the Water-pourer, and whose principal 
star is Fomalhaut, which means the "fish's mouth." In our 
era the fish is the content; with the Water-pourer, he be- 
comes the container. It's a very strange symbol. I don't 
dare interpret it. So far as one can tell, it is the image of a 
great man approaching. One finds, besides, a lot of things 
about this in the Bible itself: there are more things in the 
Bible than the theologians can admit. 

It's a matter of experience that the symbolism changes 
from one sign to another, and there is the risk that this 
passage will be all the more difficult for the men of today 
and tomorrow because they no longer believe in it, no 
longer want to be conscious of it. Why, when Pope Pius 
XII in one of his last discourses deplored that the world 
was no longer conscious enough of the presence of angels, 
he was saying to his faithful Catholics in Christian terms 
exactly what I am trying to say in terms of psychology to 
those who stand more chance of understanding this lan- 
guage than any other. 

But what recommendations can you ma\e for the passage 
that is about to ta\e place, whose difficulties you fear? 

A spirit of greater openness towards the unconscious, an 
increased attention to dreams, a sharper sense of the totality 
of the physical and the psychic, of their indissolubility; a 
livelier taste for self-knowledge. Better established mental 
hygiene, if you want to put it that way. The religions have 

B Piscis Austrinus, the Southern Fish. Cf. ibid., par. 173, n. 30, 
and par. 174. Cf. also Memories, Dreams, Reflections, p. 339/313 
and n. 



413 



1959 

tried to be this, but the result is not entirely satisfactory, 
don't you agree? 

What is very important is to exist, and that's rarer than 
one realizes. To have a daily task and to accomplish it; 
and at the same time to attend to what is going on, inside 
oneself as well as outside, conscious of all life's forms, all 
its expressions. To follow the major rules, but also to give 
free rein to the least familiar aspects of oneself. Drawing, 
and the fantasies and visions that it brought about, was a 
valuable thing. Now we take photographs, and that doesn't 
fill the same need at all. In return, the painters recognize no 
limits to the most impassioned fantasy. They are becoming 
specialists in certain needs for expression; but all of us have 
these needs, we can't divide up the personality's inside 
work the, way we think we can divide its outside activity. 
That breaks up something essential in it and causes an 
appalling psychic illness. In writing about flying saucers, I 
explained why men are so attentive to anything resembling 
a circle or a ball, the symbols of unity, of the totality of a 
person's being, of what I have called the self. There is a 
terrible spiritual famine in our world, but there are also 
people who don't want to be beak-fed or fed with infant's 
pap. 

May I as\ you to repeat the principal points of your system 
which may assist man to discover his totality and allay his 
spiritual famine, when he no longer adheres to the words of 
Christianity? 

In the first place, I have no system, no doctrine, nothing 
of that kind. I am an empiricist, with no metaphysical 
views at all. I have only hypotheses. From them I have 
gained some basic principles. There is the self, which is the 
totality of one's being, known and unknown, conscious 
and unconscious, as opposed to the distinction between 
physical and psychic. Then there are the archetypes, those 
images of instinct. For instinct is not just an outward thrust, 



414 



On the Frontiers of Knowledge 

it also takes part in the representation of forms. The animal, 
for example, has a certain idea of the plant, since he recog- 
nizes it. 8 Our instincts do not express themselves only in 
our actions and reactions, but also in the way we formulate 
what we imagine. Instinct is not only biological, it is also, 
you might say, spiritual. And it always repeats certain forms 
which can be studied down the ages among all peoples. 
These are the archetypes. 

The crossing of a river, now, that is an archetypal situa- 
tion. It's an important moment, a risk. There is danger 
in the water, on the banks. Not for nothing did Chris- 
tianity invent great St. Christopher, the giant who carried 
the infant Jesus through the water. Today men don't have 
that experience very often, or others of that sort either. I 
remember river crossings in Africa with crocodiles, and un- 
known tribes on the other side; one feels that one's destiny 
— human destiny, almost — is at stake. Every man has his 
own way of approaching the crossing, you see. And think of 
King Albrecht's death near Wettingen, too: the knights 
were hesitant, not very determined, one can't be at all sure 
that they would have attacked the king just anywhere. 
But they surprised him in the middle of the ford, in the 
place where fate strikes — and jumped at the chance. 7 

There is also the collective unconscious, that immense 
treasury, that great reservoir, whence mankind draws the 
images, the forces, which it translates into very different 
languages, but whose common source is being found out 
more clearly all the time. So many coincidences come from 
there. 

Is your explanation of man and the world understandable 
to simple people or reserved for the intellectual elite? 
There are two distinct things: the use of psychotherapy 

8 Cf. "On the Nature of the Psyche," CW 8, par. 398, and "Instinct 
and the Unconscious," ibid., pars. 268, 277. 
7 Cf. above, "The Houston Films," p. 293. 



415 



1959 



is reserved for medical specialists — not everyone can fool 
around with that — but what you call the "explanation" 
reaches a lot more people than I would have thought pos- 
sible myself. 

I always remember a letter I received one morning, a 
poor scrap of paper, really, from a woman who wanted to 
see me just once in her life. The letter made a very strong 
impression on me, I am not quite sure why. I invited her 
to come and she came. She was very poor — poor intellectual- 
ly too. I don't believe she had ever finished primary school. 
She kept house for her brother; they ran a little newsstand. 
I asked her kindly if she really understood my books which 
she said she had read. And she replied in this extraordinary 
way, "Your books are not books, Herr Professor, they are 
bread." , 

And the little travelling salesman of women's things, 
who stopped me in the street and looked at me with im- 
mense eyes, saying, "Are you really the man who writes 
those books? Are you truly the one who writes about these 
things no one knows?" 

Yes, in the long run I am very optimistic. The people do 
follow it. In the French part of Switzerland the first edi- 
tion of my L'Homme a la decouverte de son dme 8 was sold 
out in three months. Who reads it? Not the professors. 

How did you arrive at your global concept of the human 
being, of the totality? 

Empiricism, I tell you, observation. One must admit that 
the psychological fact is everything. Perception makes 
reality psychic, we live in the sort of a world-image that 
our senses and intelligence can perceive; we do not know 
true reality, in so far as all of it is not conceivable to us. 

8 Five essays by Jung, tr. Roland Cahen-Salabelle, together with 
extracts from a seminar delivered in Basel (1934) and from "The 
Tavistock Lectures" (CW 18); Geneva and Annemasse, 1944 and 
subsequent edns. Jung's epilogue is in CW 18. C£. above, p. 76. 

416 



On the Frontiers of Knowledge 

But we have quantities of signs of the reality beyond. We 
should try to understand what is beyond us. 

That is accomplished by stages. A whole evolution was 
needed before the idea of the unconscious was accepted. 
Nietzsche, Schopenhauer, Pierre Janet, Charcot, Freud: 
they were so many steps. The conjunction of several lines 
of study in one man was also needed. I have had the good 
luck to be able to study all my life. My father was a theo- 
logian, specializing in oriental languages; he passed on a 
bit of his gift for language to me. I studied the literature, I 
studied medieval and ancient alchemy. Comparative reli- 
gion, of course, and, to begin with, philosophy at the same 
time as medicine. All of that was necessary to work out 
the line of thought and the mental attitude that have led 
me to uncover certain laws. And don't forget my travels, 
particularly in India and Africa, 9 where one meets men of 
other epochs. By dint of observation, of discovery, one 
notes relationships, resemblances, coincidences, and one 
tries to get back to their common source, for there certainly 
must be one. It's the sum of experience, that's all. 

Let me tell you a story which happened a long while 
ago, to show you how empiricism leads to certain discov- 
eries. The doctor of a small town in Canton Solothurn had 
sent me a young patient who suffered from incurable in- 
somnia. She was pining away from lack of sleep and nar- 
cotics. He could think of no way to help her except hyp- 
notism or this new psychoanalysis that they were beginning 
to talk about. 

But she came to me. She was a teacher, twenty-five years 
old, of a very simple family, who had successfully com- 
pleted her studies, but who lived in constant fear of making 
a mistake, of not being worthy of her position. She had 
gotten into an unbearable state of spasmodic tension. Clear- 
ly, what she needed was psychic relaxation. But we did not 

9 Cf. Memories, Dreams, Reflections, ch. IX. 



417 



1959 

know much about all those ideas then. There was no one 
in the locality where she lived who could handle her case, 
and she could not come to Zurich for treatment. I had to do, 
as best I could, whatever was possible in an hour. I tried to 
explain to her that relaxation was necessary, that I, for ex- 
ample, found relaxation by sailing on the lake, by letting 
myself go with the wind; that this was good for one, neces- 
sary for everybody. But I could see by her eyes that she 
didn't understand. She got it intellectually, that's as far as it 
went, though. Reason had no effect. 

Then, as I talked of sailing and of the wind, I heard 
the voice of my mother singing a lullaby to my little sister 
as she used to do when I was eight or nine, a story of a 
little girl in a little boat, on the Rhine, with little fishes. 
And I began, almost without doing it on purpose, to hum 
what I was telling her about the wind, the waves, the sail- 
ing, and relaxation, to the tune of the little lullaby. I 
hummed those sensations, and I could see that she was 
"enchanted." 

But the hour came to an end, and I had to send her 
away brusquely. I knew nothing more about her. I had 
forgotten her name and that of her physician. But it was 
a story that haunted me. 

Years later, at a congress, a stranger introduced himself 
to me as the doctor from Solothurn and reminded me of 
the story of the young girl. "Certainly I remember the case," 
I said. "I should have liked so much to know what became 
of her." 

"But," he replied in surprise, "she came back cured, as you 
know, and I was the one who always wanted to know what 
you had done. Because all she could tell me was some story 
about sailing and wind, and I never could get her to tell me 
what you really did. I think she doesn't remember. Of 
course, I know it's impossible that you only hummed her a 
story about a boat." 



418 



On the Frontiers of Knowledge 

How was I to explain to him that I had simply listened 
to something within myself? I had been quite at sea. How 
was I to tell him that I had sung her a lullaby with my 
mother's voice? Enchantment like that is the oldest form 
of medicine. But it all happened outside of my reason: it 
was not until later that I thought about it rationally and 
tried to arrive at the laws behind it. She was cured by the 
grace of God. 

How can you speaks of the grace of God? 

And why not? A good dream, for example, that's grace. 
The dream is in essence a gift. The collective unconscious, 
it's not for you, or me, it's the invisible world, it's the great 
spirit. It makes little difference what I call it: God, Tao, 
the Great Voice, the Great Spirit. But for people of our 
time God is the most comprehensible name with which to 
designate the Power beyond us. 

The images of God — it's an immense story. I remember 
an African tribe whose members greeted the first rays of 
the sun by spitting in their hands and turning them to- 
wards it. That's classic: since breath is the soul, the saliva 
which accompanies the breath is the substance of the soul. 
What that gesture means exactly is: "My God, I offer you 
my soul." I tried to find out if they knew the meaning of 
their gesture. No, the young did not know, nor the fathers. 
But the grandfathers knew, it is they who guard the secrets. 
And elsewhere you see this gesture in the carved dog- 
headed baboons of Abu Simbel. 

I watched the tribesmen and when I thought I had under- 
stood them I asked, "Your god Mungu, he is the sun?" 
Homeric gales of laughter from the tribesmen. This poor 
imbecile of a white man, imagining that we worship that 
ball of light and heat! I looked closer. The same rite also 
greeted the new moon. So, in the end, I understood their 
god: it was the moment when darkness changes into light, 



419 



1959 

not the sun itself, but its appearing. 10 There is Horus, too, 
among the Egyptians. There are so many things and they 
all hang together. 

The French writer Colette once said to her husband about 
some bit of animal behavior, "Maurice, there's just one 
animal, just one animal!" 

I wasn't familiar with that but it's exactly the same idea, 
the same sense of totality, expressed in the language of 
someone very close to the animal world. There are so many 
possible forms of the truth. We must find simple words for 
the great truths; we must try to approach the living truth 
behind things, it's mankind's oldest effort. 

In our time, it's the intellect that is making darkness, be- 
cause we've let it take too big a place. Consciousness dis- 
criminates, judges, analyzes, and emphasizes the contradic- 
tions. It's necessary work up to a point. But analysis kills 
and synthesis brings to life. We must find out how to get 
everything back into connection with everything else. We 
must resist the vice of intellectualism, and get it understood 
that we cannot only understand. 

Two or three more centuries will go by before the new 
era I spoke of in connection with the flying saucers. A lot 
will still have to happen to mankind. Many things will 
have to change before the new style comes to birth, the new 
formula for the realization of humanity. 

I remember a marvellous sight I beheld one evening in 
India at the Darjeeling observatory. Sikkim was already in 
shadow, the mountains blue to about four thousand meters, 
violet to about seven thousand. And there in the middle of 
that ring of mountains was Kanchenjunga in all its glory, 
resplendent as a ruby. It was the lotus with the jewel with- 
out price in its center. And all the savants and scientists, 
lost in wonder at this spectacle, said "OM" without realizing 

10 For a fuller account see ibid., pp. 266ff., and concerning the 
dog-headed baboons, pp. 269/274. 



420 



On the Frontiers of Knowledge 

it. That's the primal word, the sound that passes from 
mother to child, and what some primitives say when they 
approach a stranger. And after the learned men had re- 
gained consciousness, they felt the need of a word and they 
asked me to recite part of Faust. 

Faust — you know how Goethe spoke of that work, of 
the research into the essential that it meant? As "das 
Hauptgeschaft," the main thing, the essential. 

Man has need of the word, but number is a much more 
important thing. In essence, number is sacred. Lots of im- 
portant things might be said about it. The quaternity, above 
all, is an essential archetype. The square, the cross. The 
squaring of the circle by the alchemists. The cross in the 
circle, or, for Christians, Christ in "glory." It is not I who 
have made up all that. It exists, and it's important. 

What can men do, and especially we Swiss, to prepare our- 
selves and help everyone prepare himself to face a future 
already disturbing in its immediacy? 

There is no entirely simple, thoroughly rational recipe. 
Most of us are too academic-minded to come face to face 
with living reality in its wholeness, its totality. We prefer 
to deny it because that's easier, and because we can find 
such a lot of good, honest, reasonable arguments for doing 
so. What would you have me do? I say what I know, what 
I believe, how I see things. But I know very well that truth 
is ineffable and all our approaches to it, gross. Just the same, 
we're moving ahead. But it's such a long story. 

In the case of Switzerland there are some profound sym- 
bols which are very strange: the union of white and red in 
our flag, for example, is a "sign" of the reconciliation of 
opposites. I pointed out in my book on "flying objects" that 
the white star on American airplanes and the red star on 
Soviet planes also show this opposition of masculine and 
feminine colors. In Switzerland this symbolism may be said 
to point to their reconciliation, since the two colors are con- 



421 



1959 

joined. And besides there is also (on our flag) the cross, 
which is the sign of the quaternity already to be found 
in the center of Switzerland, where the rivers take their 
rise, as though the play of nature had marked out that 
quaternity. If we were more conscious in our country, we 
might think more of this; we might allow these great 
symbols to penetrate us. 

But there is no entirely simple, thoroughly rational recipe : 
though the Swiss want that above all. The sort of things 
that we have been talking about are, without doubt, harder 
to explain to the Swiss than to other people. We are ex- 
tremely materialistic in the broadest sense of the term. Feet 
on the ground, heads not too high in the sky! We believe 
in nothing but what we see, what we touch, what we know. 
The Swis$ 1S much too literal-minded to come face to face 
with live reality in its wholeness, its totality. He prefers to 
deny it because that is easier, and because such a lot of good, 
honest, reasonable arguments can be found to support his 
denial. What would you have me do? I say what I know, 
what I believe, how I see things. But I know very well 
that the Truth is ineffable, and all our approaches to it 
are gross. Just the same we are moving ahead. But it is such 
a long story. 

There is one thing that counts, though: we're beginning 
to look at history in the light of perspectives gained from 
the study of the psyche and of human behavior. And not 
only history but economics, too. Men like Professor Karl 
Schmid 11 at the Federal Institute of Technology, Zurich, or 
Professor Bohler 12 and his Institute for Economic Research, 
have a very extensive acquaintance with psychology; their 
better knowledge of man and what motivates him should 

11 Cf. Hochmut und Angst (Zurich and Stuttgart, 1958). 

12 Cf. Eugen Bohler, "Ethik und Wirtschaft" (Ethics and Econ- 
omy), Industrielle Organisation (Zurich), IV (1957); "Ideologies 
and Ideals," Spring, i960; and "Conscience in Economic Life," in 
Conscience (Studies in Jungian Thought; Evanston, 1970). 



422 



On the Frontiers of Knowledge 

permit a better understanding of political and economic 
conditions. With time and accumulated experience, we 
shall not only understand the past better, but maybe we 
shall also learn how to avoid the most dangerous situations 
in the future, to forestall political crises just as we now 
begin to know how to forestall economic crises. That would 
be progress, if men were wise enough. 

But remember what the Pope said: "The world should 
be more conscious of the presence of angels." There was a 
man who was conscious of what the unconscious brings 
us, who was in contact with the living truth. 

[Translated by Jane A. Pratt] 



423 



THE "FACE TO FACE" 
INTERVIEW 



« I M I M I t t M l MM 



John Freeman's interview with Jung on the BBC television 
program "Face to Face" has undoubtedly brought Jung to more 
people than any other piece of journalism and any of Jung's 
own writings. Freeman and a team led by the producer Hugh 
Burnett filmed the interview in Jung's house at Kiisnacht in 
March 1959, and, edited to one-half hour, it was broadcast in 
Great Britain on October 22, 1959. Subsequently, it has often 
been rebroadcast, and a cinema film version is frequently shown 
by educational organizations, Jungian groups, and such. Part of 
the transcript was published in a different form in Face to Face, 
edited by Burnett (London, 1964), containing a number of in- 
terviews conducted by Freeman. 

Freeman was deputy editor of the New Statesman at the 
time of the interview with Jung. They formed a friendship that 
continued until Jung's death. Later, Freeman was editor-in- 
chief of the New Statesman; 1965-68, British High Commis- 
sioner to India; and 1969-71, British Ambassador to Wash- 
ington. 

Because of the success of Jung's interview by Freeman, the 
next year the BBC requested another interview, this time with a 
psychiatrist about medical problems. Jung declined, because he 
felt unequal to the exertion and was discouraged by his pre- 
vious experience of interviews by psychologists poorly informed 
of his work. See his letter to Burnett, June 30, i960, in Letters, 
ed. Adler, vol. 2. 



Professor Jung, how many years have you lived in this 
lovely house by the la\e at Zurich? 
It's just about fifty years. 



424 



The "Face to Face" Interview 

Do you live here now just with your secretaries and your 
English housekeeper? 
Yes. 

No children or grandchildren with you? 

Oh no, they don't live here, but I have plenty of them in 
the surroundings. 

Do they come to see you often? 
Oh yes! 

How many grandchildren have you? 
Oh, nineteen. 

And great grandchildren? 
I think eight, and I suppose one is on the way. 

And do you enjoy having them? 

Well, it's nice to feel such a living crowd are out of one- 
self. 

Are they afraid of you, do you thin\? 

I don't think so. If you would know my grandchildren 
you wouldn't think so! They steal my things. Even my hat 
that belongs to me they stole the other day. 

Now, can I take you bac\ to your own childhood? Do you 
remember the occasion when you first felt consciousness of 
your own individual self? 

That was in my eleventh year. There I suddenly was on 
my way to school I stepped out of a mist. It was just as if 
I had been in a mist, walking in a mist, and I stepped 
out of it and I knew, "I am." "I am what I am." And then 
I thought, "But what have I been before?" And then I 
found that I had been in a mist, not knowing how to dif- 
ferentiate my self from things. I was just one thing among 
other things. 1 

1 Cf. Jung, Memories, Dreams, Reflections, pp. 321-/44^ 

425 



1959 



Now was that associated with any particular episode in 
your life, or was it just a normal junction of adolescence? 

Well, that's difficult to say. As far as I can remember, 
nothing had happened before that would explain this sud- 
den coming to consciousness. 

You hadn't, jor instance, been quarrelling with your par- 
ents, or anything? 
No. No. 

What memories have you of your parents? Were they strict 
and old-fashioned in the way they brought you up? 

Oh well, you know, they belonged to the later part of the 
Middle Ages. My father was a parson in the country, and 
you can imagine what people were then, you know, in the 
seventies of the past century. They had the convictions in 
which people have lived since one thousand eight hundred 
years. 

How did he try to impress these convictions on you? Did 
he punish you, for instance? 

Oh no, not at all, no. He was very liberal, and he was 
most tolerant and most understanding. 

Which did you get on with more intimately — your father 
or your mother? 

That's difficult to say. Of course, one is always more inti- 
mate with the mother, but when it comes to the personal 
feeling I had a better relation to my father, who was pre- 
dictable, than with my mother, who was to me a very prob- 
lematical something. 

So at any rate fear was not an element in your relation with 
your father? 
Not at all. 

Did you accept him as being infallible in his judgments? 
Oh no, I knew he was very fallible. 

426 



The "Face to Face" Interview 

How old were you when you \new that? 

Now, let me see. [Long pause.] Perhaps eleven or twelve 
years old. It was hanging together with the fact that I was, 
that I knew I was, and from then on I saw that my father 
was different. 

Yes. So the moment of self-revelation was closely connected 
with realizing the fallibility of your parents? 

Yes, one could say so. But I realized that I had fear of 
my mother, but not during the day. Then she was quite 
known to me, and predictable, but in the night I had fear of 
my mother. 

And can you remember why? Can you remember what that 
fear — 
I have not the slightest idea why. 

What about your schooldays now? Were you happy at 
school — as a schoolboy? 

In the beginning I was very happy to have companions, 
you know, because before I had been very lonely. We lived 
in the country and I had no brother and no sister. My 
sister was born very much later, when I was nine years old, 
and so I was used to being alone, but I missed it — I missed 
company — and in school it was wonderful to have com- 
pany. But soon — you know in a country school I was far 
ahead — and then I began to be bored. 

What sort of religious upbringing did your father give you? 
Oh, we were Swiss Reformed. 

And did he ma\e you attend church regularly? 

Oh, well, that was quite natural. Everybody went to 
church on Sunday. 

And did you believe in God? 
Oh, yes. 



427 



1959 

Do you now believe in God? 

Now? [Pause.] Difficult to answer. I \now. I don't need 
to believe. I know. 

Well now, turning to the next staging point in your life. 
What made you decide to become a doctor? 

I really — originally — I wanted to be an archaeologist; 
Assyriology, Egyptology, or something of the sort. I hadn't 
the money; the study was too expensive. So my second love 
then belonged to nature, particularly zoology, and when I 
began my studies I inscribed in the so-called Philosophical 
Faculty Two — that means natural sciences. But then I soon 
saw that the career that was before me would make a 
schoolmaster of me, you see. But I didn't — I never thought 
I had any chance to get any further, because we had no 
money at all. And then I saw that that didn't suit my ex- 
pectations, you know. I didn't want to become a school- 
master. Teaching was not just what I was looking for. And 
so I remembered that my grandfather had been a doctor, 
and I knew that when I was studying medicine I had a 
chance to study natural science and to become a doctor. And 
a doctor can develop, you see, he can have a practice, he 
can choose his scientific interests more or less. At all events, 
I would have more chance than being a schoolmaster, also 
the idea of doing something useful with human beings ap- 
pealed to me. 

And did you, when you decided to become a doctor, have 
difficulty in getting the training at school and in passing 
the exams? 

I particularly had a difficulty with certain teachers. They 
didn't believe that I could write a thesis. I remember one 
case where the teacher had the custom, the habit, of discus- 
sing the papers written by the pupils, and he took the best 
first. And he went through the whole number of the pupils 
and I didn't appear, and I was badly troubled over it, and I 
thought well, it is impossible that my thesis can be that 

428 



The "Face to Face" Interview 

bad, and when he had finished he said: "There is still one 
paper left over and that is the one by Jung. That would be 
by far the best paper if it hadn't been copied. He has just 
copied this somewhere — stolen. You are a thief, Jung! And 
if I knew where you had stolen it I would fling you out of 
school!" And I got mad and said this is the one thesis where 
I have worked the most, because the theme was interesting, 
in contradistinction, you know, to other themes which are 
not at all interesting to me. And then he said, "You are a 
liar, and if we can prove that you have stolen that thing 
somewhere, then you get out of school." 2 

Now that was a very serious thing for me, because what 
else then, you see? And I hated that fellow, and that was 
the only man I could have killed, you know, if I had met 
him once at a dark corner! I would have shown him some- 
thing of what I could do. 

Did you often have violent thoughts about people when you 
were young? 

No, not exactly. Only when I got mad. Well, then I beat 
them up. 

And did you often get mad? 
Not so often, but then for good! 

You were very strong and big, I imagine? 

Yes, I was pretty strong, and you know, reared in the 
country with those peasant boys, it was a rough kind of life. 
I would have been capable of violence, I know. I was a bit 
afraid of it, so I rather tried to avoid critical situations 
because I didn't trust myself. Once I was attacked by about 
seven boys and I got mad, and I took one, and just swang 
him round by his legs, you know, and beat down four of 
them, and then they were satisfied. 

And were there any consequences from that afterwards? 
Oh, I should say, yes! From then on it was always sus- 

2 Ibid., pp. 64ff./72fl. Also "The Gifted Child," CW 17, par. 232. 



429 



1959 

pected that I was at the bottom of every trouble. I was not, 
but they were afraid and I was never attacked again. 

Well now, when the time came that you qualified as a 
doctor, what made you decide to specialize in being an 
alienist? 

Well, that is rather an interesting point. When I had 
finished my studies practically, and when I didn't know 
what I really wanted to do, I had a big chance to follow 
one of my professors. He was called to a new position in 
Munich, and he wanted me as his assistant. But then in that 
moment I studied for my final examination, I came across a 
textbook of psychiatry. Up to then I thought nothing about 
it, because our professor then wasn't particularly interested, 
and I only read the introduction to that book, where certain 
things were said about psychosis as a maladjustment of the 
personality. That hit the nail on the head. In that moment 
I saw I must become an alienist. My heart was thumping 
wildly in that moment, and when I told my professor I 
wouldn't follow him, I would study psychiatry, he couldn't 
understand it. Nor my friends, because in those days psy- 
chiatry was nothing, nothing at all. But I saw the one 
great chance to unite certain contrasting things in myself, 
namely, besides medicine — besides natural science I always 
had studied the history of philosophy and such subjects. It 
was just as if suddenly two streams were joining. 3 

And how long was it after you too\ that decision that you 
first came in contact with Freud? 

Oh, you know, that was at the end of my studies, and 
then it took quite a while until I met Freud. You see, I'd 
finished my studies in 1900 and I met Freud altogether 
much later. In 1900 I already read his Dream Interpretation 
and the Breuer-Freud studies about hysteria, but that was 
merely literary, you know, and then in 1907 I became 
acquainted with him personally. 

s Memories, Dreams, Reflections, pp. io8f./iii. 

430 



The "Face to Face" Interview 

Will you tell me how that happened? Did you go to Vienna 
to meet him? 

Oh well, then I'd written a book about the psychology of 
dementia praecox,* as we called schizophrenia then. And I 
sent him that book, and thus became acquainted. I went to 
Vienna for a fortnight and then we had a very long and 
penetrating conversation, and that settled it. 

And this long and penetrating conversation was followed by 
personal friendship? 
Oh yes, it soon developed into a personal friendship. 

And what sort of man was Freud? 

Well, he was a complicated nature, you know. I liked him 
very much, but I soon discovered that when he had thought 
something then it was settled, while I was doubting all 
along the line, and it was impossible to discuss something 
really a fond. You know he had no philosophical education, 
particularly; you see I was studying Kant, and I was steeped 
in it, and that was far from Freud. So from the very begin- 
ning there was a discrepancy. 5 

Did you in fact grow apart later, partly because of a differ- 
ence in temperamental approach to experiment and proof 
and so on? 

Well, of course, there is always a temperamental differ- 
ence, and his approach was naturally different from mine 
because his personality was different from mine. That led 
me into my later investigation of psychological types. There 
are definite attitudes. Some people are doing it in this way 
and other people are doing it in another typical way, and 
there were such differences between myself and Freud, too. 

Do you consider that Freud's standard of proof and experi- 
mentation was less high than your own? 

4 "The Psychology of Dementia Praecox," CW 3. 

5 For the meeting with Freud, see Memories, Dreams, Reflections, 
ch. V, and The Freud/Jung Letters, p. 24. 



431 



1959 

Well, you see, that is an evaluation I'm not competent of; 
I am not my own history, or my historiographer. With 
reference to certain results, I think my method has its 
merits. 

Tell me, did Freud himself ever analyze you? 

Oh yes, I submitted quite a lot of my dreams to him, and 
so did he. 

And he to you? 
Yes, oh yes. 

Do you remember now at this distance of time what were 
the significant features of Freud's dreams that you noted at 
the time? 

Well, that is rather indiscreet to ask. You know I have- 
there is such a thing as a professional secret. 

He's been dead these many years. 

Yes, but these regards last longer than life. [Pause.] I 
prefer not to talk about it. 

Well, may I as\ you something else, then, which perhaps is 
also indiscreet. Is it true that you have a very large number 
of letters which you exchanged with Freud which are still 
unpublished? 
Yes. 

When are they going to be published? 
Well, not during my lifetime. 

You would have no objection to them being published after 
your lifetime? 
Oh, no, none at all. 

Because they are probably of great historical importance. 
I don't think so. 

Then why have you not published them so far? 

Because they were not important enough to me. I see no 
particular importance in them. 

432 



The "Face to Face" Interview 

They are concerned with personal matters? 
Well, partially. But I wouldn't care to publish them. 6 

Well now, can we move on to the time when you did 
eventually part company with Freud. It was partly, I thin\, 
with the publication of your boo\ Psychology of the Un- 
conscious. 7 Is that correct? 

That was the real cause. No, I mean the final cause, be- 
cause it had a long preparation. You know, from the 
beginning I had a reservatio mentalis. I couldn't agree with 
quite a number of his ideas. 

Which ones in particular? 

Well, chiefly, his purely personal approach, and his dis- 
regard of the historical conditions of man. You see, we 
depend largely upon our history. We are shaped through 
education, through the influence of the parents, which is by 
no means always personal. They were prejudiced, or they 
were influenced by historical ideas or what are called 
dominants, 8 and that is a most decisive factor in psychology. 
We are not of today or of yesterday; we are of an immense 
age. 

Was it not partly your observation, your clinical observa- 
tion, of psychotic cases which led you to differ from Freud 
on this? 

It was partially my experience with schizophrenic patients 
that led me to the idea of certain general historical con- 
ditions. 

Is there any one case that you can now loo\ bac\ on and 
feel that perhaps it was the turning point of your thought? 

6 By agreement of the Freud and Jung families, the letters were 
published in 1974. For an account of the events leading up to pub- 
lication, see The Freud/Jung Letters, introduction, especially pp. 
xix-xxxiv. 

7 Wandlungen und Symbole der Libido (1912). Revised 1952 as 
Symbole der Wandlung = Symbols of Transformation, CW 5. 

8 Another term for archetypes. 



433 



1959 



The "Face to Face" Interview 



Oh yes, I had quite a number of experiences of that sort, 
and I went even to Washington to study Negroes at the 
psychiatric clinic there, 9 in order to find out whether they 
have the same type of dreams as we have, and these ex- 
periences and others led me then to the hypothesis that there 
is an impersonal stratum in our psyche, and I can tell you 
an example. We had a patient in the ward; he was quiet 
but completely dissociated, a schizophrenic, and he was in 
the clinic or the ward twenty years. He had come into the 
clinic as a matter of fact a young man, a little clerk and 
with no particular education, and once I came into the ward 
and he was obviously excited and called to me, took me by 
the lapel of my coat, and led me to the window, and said: 
"Doctor! Now! Now you will see. Now look at it. Look up 
at the sun and see how it moves. See, you must move your 
head, too, like this, and then you will see the phallus of the 
sun, and you know, that's origin of the wind. And you 
see how the sun moves as you move your head, from one 
side to the other!" Of course, I did not understand it at all. 
I thought oh, there you are, he's just crazy. But that case 
remained in my mind, and four years later I came across a 
paper written by the German historian, Dieterich, who had 
dealt with the so-called Mithras Liturgy, a part of the 
Great Parisian Magic Papyrus. And there he produced part 
of the so-called Mithras Liturgy, namely it had said there: 
"After the second prayer you will see how the disc of the 
sun unfolds, and you will see hanging down from it the 
tube, the origin of the wind, and when you move your face 
to the regions of the east it will move there, and if you 
move your face to the regions of the west it will follow you." 
And instantly I knew — now this is it! This is the vision of 
my patient! 10 

9 At St. Elizabeths Hospital, Washington, D.C., September 1912. 
See The Freud/Jung Letters, 323J, n. 2. 

10 CW 5, pars. 150ft. Cf. also CW 8, pars. 228 and 318, and CW 
9 i, par. 105. 



434 






But how could you be sure that your patient wasn't un- 
consciously recalling something that somebody had told 
him? 

Oh, no. Quite out of the question, because that thing was 
not known. It was in a magic papyrus in Paris, and it 
wasn't even published. It was only published four years 
later," after I had observed it with my patient. 

And this you felt proved that there was an unconscious 
which was something more than personal? 

Oh well, that was not a proof to me, but it was a hint, 
and I took the hint. 

Now tell me, how did you first decide to start your wor\ on 
the psychological types? Was that also as a result of some 
particular clinical experience? 

Less so. It was a very personal reason, namely to do 
justice to the psychology of Freud, also to that of Adler, and 
to find my own bearings. That helped me to understand 
why Freud developed such a theory. Or why Adler de- 
veloped his theory with his power principle. 

Have you concluded what psychological type you are 
yourself? 

Naturally I have devoted a great deal of attention to that 
painful question, you know! 

And reached a conclusion? 

Well, you see, the type is nothing static. It changes in the 
course of life, but I most certainly was characterized by 
thinking. I always thought, from early childhood on, and I 
had a great deal of intuition too. And I had a definite 
difficulty with feeling, and my relation to reality was not 
particularly brilliant. I was often at variance with the 

n Albrecht Dieterich's Eine Mithrasliturgie actually was published 
first in the year 1903, before the delusion was observed. See "The Con- 
cept of the Collective Unconscious," CW 9 i, par. 105, n. 5. 



435 



1959 

reality of things. Now that gives you all the necessary data 
for a diagnosis ! 

During the nineteen thirties, when you were wording a lot 
with German patients, you did, I believe, forecast that a 
second world war was very lively. Well now, looking at the 
world today, do you feel that a third world war is li\ely? 
I have no definite indications in that respect, but there are 
so many indications that one doesn't know what one sees. 
Is it trees, or is it the wood ? It's very difficult to say, because 
people's dreams contain apprehensions, you know, but it is 
very difficult to say whether they point to a war, because 
that idea is uppermost in people's minds. Formerly, you 
know, it has been much simpler. People didn't think of a 
war, and therefore it was rather clear what the dreams 
meant. Nowadays no more so. We are so full of apprehen- 
sions, fears, that one doesn't know exactly to what it points. 
One thing is sure. A great change of our psychological 
attitude is imminent. That is certain. 

And why? 

Because we need more — we need more psychology. We 
need more understanding of human nature, because the 
only real danger that exists is man himself. He is the great 
danger, and we are pitifully unaware of it. We know 
nothing of man, far too little. His psyche should be studied, 
because we are the origin of all coming evil. 

Does man, do you thin\, need to have the concept of sin and 
evil to live with? Is this part of our nature? 
Well, obviously. 

And of a redeemer? 
That is an inevitable consequence. 

This is not a concept which will disappear as we become 
more rational; it's something which — 

Well, I don't believe that man ever will deviate from the 
original pattern of his being. There will always be such 

436 



The "Face to Face" Interview 



in a 



ideas. For instance, if you do not directly believe 
personal redeemer, as it was the case with Hitler, or the 
hero-worship in Russia, then it is an idea, it is a symbolic 
idea. 



You have written, at one time and another, some sentences 
which have surprised me a little, about death. Now, in 
particular I remember you said that death is psychologically 
just as important as birth and li\e it it's an integral part of 
life. But surely it can't be li\e birth if it's an end, can it? 

Yes, if it's an end, and there we are not quite certain 
about this end, because you know there are these peculiar 
faculties of the psyche, that it isn't entirely confined to space 
and time. You can have dreams or visions of the future, you 
can see around corners, and such things. Only ignorance 
denies these facts, you know; it's quite evident that they do 
exist, and have existed always. Now these facts show that 
the psyche, in part at least, is not dependent upon these 
confinements. And then what? When the psyche is not 
under that obligation to live in time and space alone, and 
obviously it doesn't, then to that extent the psyche is not 
subjected to those laws, and that means a practical con- 
tinuation of life, of a sort of psychical existence beyond time 
and space. 

Do you yourself believe that death is probably the end, or 
do you believe that — 

Well, I can't say. You see, the word belief is a difficult 
thing for me. I don't believe. I must have a reason for a 
certain hypothesis. Either I know a thing, and then I know 
it — I don't need to believe it. I don't allow myself, for in- 
stance, to believe a thing just for the sake of believing it. I 
can't believe it. But when there are sufficient reasons for a 
certain hypothesis, I shall accept . . . naturally. I should say: 
"We had to reckon with the possibility of so and so" — you 
know. 



437 



1959 

Well now, you've told us that we should regard death as 
being a goal — 
Yes. 

— and that to shrin\ away from it is to evade life and ma\e 
life purposeless. 
Yes. 

What advice would you give to people in their later life to 
enable them to do this, when most of them must in fact 
believe that death is the end of everything? 

Well, you see, I have treated many old people, and it's 
quite interesting to watch what the unconscious is doing 
with the fact that it is apparently threatened with a com- 
plete end. It disregards it. Life behaves as if it were going 
on, and sp I think it is better for an old person to live on, to 
look forward to the next day, as if he had to spend centuries, 
and then he lives properly. But when he is afraid, when he 
doesn't look forward, he looks back, he petrifies, he gets stiff 
and he dies before his time. But when he's living and 
looking forward to the great adventure that is ahead, then 
he lives, and that is about what the unconscious is intending 
to do. Of course, it's quite obvious that we're all going to 
die, and this is the sad finale of everything; but nevertheless, 
there is something in us that doesn't believe it apparently. 
But this is merely a fact, a psychological fact — it doesn't 
mean to me that it proves something. It simply is so. For 
instance, I may not know why we need salt, but we prefer 
to eat salt, because we feel better. And so when you think 
in a certain way you may feel considerably better, and I 
think if you think along the lines of nature then you think 
properly. 

And this leads me to the last question that I want to as\ 
you. As the world becomes more technically efficient it 
seems increasingly necessary for people to behave commu- 
nally and collectively. Now do you thin\ it possible that the 

438 



The "Face to Face" Interview 

highest development of man may be to submerge his own 
individuality in a \ind of collective consciousness? 

That's hardly possible. I think there will be a reaction. A 
reaction will set in against this communal dissociation. You 
know, man doesn't stand for ever his nullification. Once 
there will be a reaction, and I see it setting in. You know, 
when I think of my patients, they all seek their own 
existence and to assure their existence against that complete 
atomization into nothingness, or into meaninglessness. Man 
cannot stand a meaningless life. 



439 



FROM ESTHER HARDING'S 
NOTEBOOKS: 1960 



*********** MM I m t HH 



Kiisnacht, 13 May 
I spoke of the clergy and how they are reaching out for his 
ideas. ... He said, "Only the clergy and we are concerned 
with the education of the soul. People may have to go back 
to the Church when they reach a certain stage of analysis. 
Individuation is only for the few." . . . 

Jung went on to say that X. [a mutual acquaintance, a 
cleric] had never really faced his problem, nor taken up his 
cross, that 'is, the opposition that forms the cross (crossing 
his fingers as he spoke). He need not have been afraid; the 
Church would not have rejected him. A Jesuit said to X. 
once, "You make a fist in your pocket and go on with the 
ritual!" But he could not face the fact of evil — just as he 
denied that Jesus had a shadow, though that is clearly 
portrayed, even in the records we have. Not only did he fail 
on Palm Sunday, allowing himself to be venerated as an 
imperial savior, and then cursed the fig tree because it did 
not fall into line, but also he was actually unable to carry 
his cross, someone else had to carry it for him, a most sig- 
nificant point. And so he had to be fixed on the cross. If we 
do not carry our own cross, we will surely be crucified. So 
X., who had not enough backbone to carry his cross, had an 
illness and must die of cancer 

Another cleric who had come to see Jung had said, "They 
cannot face the implications of their own doctrine." Jung 
said, "You will have read my Answer to Job." And he 
replied, yes, but that there was one thing he could not agree 
with: C. G. said there that Jesus and Mary were not real 
human beings. Jung had replied, "You and I and all men 



440 



From Esther Harding's Notebooks 

are born in sin and have the stain of sin upon us, but Jesus 
and Mary, according to the dogma, are immaculate, born 
without stain of sin. Therefore they are not real human 
beings at all." He went on, "I put something into his head, 
but he could not accept it." I said, "He must have gone 
away with a bad headache." C. G. agreed, "He probably 
had a migraine." 

Then he began to speak of how you can only talk to 
people where they are. If they have a European background, 
you must begin from the Christian standpoint; and people 
should go back to the Church when freed from personal 
problems, as they are not all able to make an individual 
formulation or experience for themselves, which takes 
enormous courage. 

He compared this to Buddhist or Hindu ideas. He said, 
"The clergy only deal with their own people. When asked, 
What about Buddhists? the clergy say they are not our 
concern — except as missionaries, of course." . . . 

He said he had met one philosopher, or yogi, in India, 1 
who was of great understanding. He had asked him about 
bodhi, enlightenment, and was told it was achieved through 
separating oneself from the kleshas. "And then what is it 
like?" he had asked. "It is the nothingness." "Then who 
experiences the enlightenment?" Jung went on to say that 
obviously there is no one to experience it. It is a state of 
unconsciousness, in which anything may happen, or noth- 
ing. But as no one is there to experience it, there can be no 
enlightenment. "The Indians," he said, "are in the four- 
teenth century." . . . 

Later, during the dinner for Dr. Jacobi's 2 seventieth birth- 
day, I was seated next to Dr. Jung. He told me that he was 

1 Jung went to India in January 1938 as an honorary delegate to 
the Silver Jubilee of the Indian Science Congress, in Calcutta. He 
also visited Bombay, Khajuraho, Benares, Darjeeling, Allahabad, 
and Ceylon. 

2 See above, p. 38. 



441 



1960 

born in the Chinese year of the swine and said, "I think 
that we are again in that year." The Buddha too was born in 
the year of the swine, and there is a certain resemblance 
between himself and the Buddha. The Buddha was born 
the son of a king, yet had to go away alone until he found 
the Noble Eightfold Path; and C. G. too had to struggle 
alone, till he found the mandala, an eightfold symbol of 
wholeness. 

He told how, in a Tibetan monastery not far from Sik- 
kim, he had found a mandala on the wall of the temple. 
There was a very learned man in charge there, with whom 
he was able to converse because an old Englishman (prob- 
ably connected with the missionaries) spoke Tibetan and 
was willing to translate. The lama told him that they did 
not use the mandala for worship, but to focus the medita- 
tion of the monks. They have to contemplate and mem- 
orize each element of the mandala and then build it up piece 
by piece in a mental image, like a solid structure before 
them. In this way, they make the psychic element substan- 
tial, almost concrete. He said they do this according to a 
given form, while we make real the form that grows from 
within. 



442 



THE ART OF LIVING 



>«»*4»»*+****«»4 



This interview by an English journalist living in Switzerland, 
Gordon Young, was published in the Sunday Times (London), 
July 17, i960, in anticipation of Jung's 85th birthday (July 26), 
and in abridged form in the American Weekly (New York), 
February 19, 1961. A fuller version appears in the epilogue of 
Gordon Young's Doctors Without Drugs (London, 1962), 
from which minor changes and several passages not included 
in the newspaper versions are incorporated here. 

Young's career as a newspaperman resembles Knicker- 
bocker's (see above, p. 115). He was Reuters' chief correspond- 
ent in Berlin before the war; throughout the war he was 
a correspondent in the Middle East and Europe, and for a 
period he was attached to SHAPE and the American First 
Army. At the end of the war he made a secret trip to German- 
occupied Denmark with the Danish underground. At the time 
of his death in 1964, Young was assistant director of the Inter- 
national Press Institute in Zurich. 



What am I planning for my birthday ? Why, to keep away 
from visitors, of course. Especially the highbrows. Most of 
them haven't the remotest idea what I am talking about. 
Trouble is, they don't bother to read my books because 
they're too high-hat. I'm not a bit taken in by intellectuals, 
you know. After all, I'm one myself. 

Do you know, I had an intellectual fellow here the other 
day— an American. I talked to him for half an hour without 
his saying one word. Then his eyes suddenly lighted up as 
though a sun were rising inside him and he told me in 
astonishment, "Why, Dr. Jung, what you are telling me is 
just plain common sense." 

As I say, the trouble is that some of the people who come 



443 



1960 

to see me simply don't bother to do their proper reading. 
They don't even read my books. Do you know who reads 
my books? Not the academic people, oh no, they think 
they know everything already. It's ordinary people, often 
quite poor people. And why do they do it? Because there's a 
deep need in the world just now for spiritual guidance — 
almost any sort of spiritual guidance. Look at the popularity 
of astrology just now. People read about astrology because 
it offers them one form of mental inspiration, perhaps a 
form with limitations, but at least it's better than nothing 
at all. 

Do you believe that astrology has any definite value? 

The whole subject, of course, is controversial. But you 
know I once did some statistical research on astrology and 
my final figures were examined by mathematicians at the 
University of Chicago. They told me that they found them 
not without significance. Naturally, when I heard that I 
pricked up my ears. We are passing out of the period of the 
Fishes just now and into the sign of Aquarius, which may 
well bring some new values with it. Some people quite 
seriously consider that this may be of great significance in 
the world's imminent development. 

Or take alchemy. To most people alchemy simply means 
a lot of old men who tried to make gold. But that was not 
the truth at all. If people would only take the trouble to 
turn up the actual writings of the ancient alchemists, they 
would find a deep treasure-trove of wisdom, much of which 
is perfectly applicable to the very events which are happen- 
ing in the world today. After all, what can possibly be more 
important than the study of how men's minds work, and 
have worked in the past? Everything which happens in the 
world today is the result of what is happening in men's 
minds. Yet how many people are taking the trouble to 
consider the minds of, say, Khrushchev or Eisenhower, or 
the basic psychological reasons for such movements as 



444 



The Art of Living 

Nazism, Communism, or anti-Jewish trends? What would 
happen to us if one of the present leaders of the world 
suddenly went mad? Yet how many people are giving any 
serious consideration to problems such as these? But I must 
not talk too deeply about such matters or I shall be accused 
of trying to meddle in politics. 

Although people are nowadays living much longer, they are 
still expected to retire at about sixty. They get forced into 
inactivity and sometimes loneliness. How do you thinly 
elderly people can best come to terms with life? 

For a long time I have advocated schools for the adult. 
After all, we try to equip young people with all the educa- 
tion they need for the building up of a successful social 
existence. This kind of education is valid for about as far 
as the middle of life — say, thirty-five to forty years. Man 
nowadays has a chance to live twice as long, and the second 
half of life has for many people a structure which is thor- 
oughly different from the first half. But this fact remains 
just as often unconscious. One does not realize that the 
rising tide of life carries young people forward to a certain 
summit of safety, fulfillment, or success. In this period one 
can forget bad experiences; life is still new and fresh, and 
every day renews its hope that it may bring the desired 
things which one has missed hitherto. 

It is when you approach the ominous region round the 
fortieth year that you look back upon the past which has 
accumulated behind you and the silent questions approach 
you, stealthily or openly : Where am I standing today ? Have 
my dreams come true? Have I fulfilled my expectations of a 
happy and successful life as I imagined them twenty years 
ago? Have I been strong, consistent, active, intelligent, 
reliable, and enduring enough to seize my oportunities or 
to make the right choice at the crossroads and produce the 
proper answer to the problem which fate or fortune put 
before me? And then the final question comes: What is the 



445 



1960 

chance that I shall fail again in fulfilling that which I 
obviously have been unable to accomplish in the first forty 
years ? 

And then? 

Then, with the beginning of your life's second part, in- 
exorably a change imposes itself, subtly at first but with 
ever-increasing weight. Whatever you have acquired hith- 
erto is no longer the same as you regarded it when it still 
lay before you — it has lost something of its charm, its splen- 
dor and its attractiveness. What was once an adventurous 
effort has become routine. Even flowers wilt, and it is hard 
to discover something perennial which will endure. Look- 
ing back slowly becomes a habit, no matter how much you 
detest and try to suppress it. Like the wife of Orpheus 
emerging 'from the underworld, who could not resist casting 
the forbidden look behind her, and consequently had to 
return from whence she came. 

This sort of thing is what you might call the "way of 
life a revers," so characteristic of many people and which at 
the beginning is adopted quite unawares: to continue in 
one's accustomed style, if possible more and better — to 
improve on the past, as if your disposition, which accounts 
for all your past failures, would be different in the future. 
But without your being aware of it your energy is no longer 
attracted to its former objectives in the way it was before: 
enthusiasm has become routine and zeal a habit. The 
backwards look will not fail to show you sides and aspects 
of yourself long forgotten and other ways of life you have 
missed or avoided before. The more your actual life becomes 
routine and habit, the less it will be satisfactory. 

Soon unconscious fantasies begin to play with other 
possibilities, and these can become quite troublesome unless 
they are made conscious in time. They may be mere regres- 
sions into childhood, which prove to be most unhelpful 
when one is confronted with the difficult task of creating a 



446 



The Art of Living 

new goal for an aging life. If one has nothing to look for- 
ward to except the habitual things, life cannot renew itself 
any more. It gets stale, it congeals and petrifies, like Lot's 
wife who could not detach her eyes from the things hitherto 
valued. Yet these insipid fantasies may also contain germs 
of real new possibilities or of new goals worthy of attain- 
ment. There are always things ahead, and despite all the 
overwhelming power of the historical pattern they are never 
quite the same. They are "as good as new," like human 
beings or even crystals which, notwithstanding their ex- 
ceedingly simple structure, are never the same. 

One might advise old people to live on with the times, 
and realize that time would provide them with all necessary 
novelties. But such easy advice takes it for granted that an 
old individual is capable of perceiving and agreeing with 
new things, ways, and means. But this is just the trouble: 
new goals demand new eyes which see them and a new 
heart which desires them. In all too many cases life is dis- 
appointing and even the most cherished illusions do not last 
forever. It is all too easy to reach the conclusion: plus ca 
change, plus ca reste la meme chose. That is a fatal con- 
clusion, however: it blocks the flow of life and causes ever 
so many troubles of a physical or mental nature. Your pure 
rationalist, who bases his expectations on statistical verities, 
is thoroughly perplexed when he has to deal with such 
cases because he ignores the one important practical fact 
that life is always an exception, a "statistical random phe- 
nomenon." It is so because it is always the life of an indi- 
vidual, who is a distinct, unique, and inimitable being, and 
not "life in general," since there is no such thing. 

Then what do you advise this inimitable being to do once he 
passes the ominous age of forty? 

An ever-deepening self-knowledge is, I'm afraid, indis- 
pensable for the continuation of real life in old age, no 
matter how unpopular self-knowledge may be. Nothing is 



447 



1960 

more ridiculous or inept than elderly people pretending to 
be young — they even lose their dignity, the one prerogative 
of age. Looking outwards has got to be turned into looking 
into oneself. Discovering yourself provides you with all 
you are, were meant to be, and all you are living from and 
for. The whole of yourself is certainly an irrational entity, 
but this is just precisely yourself, which is meant to live as a 
unique and unrepeatable experience. Thus, whatever you 
find in your given disposition is a factor of life which must 
be taken into careful consideration. 

If you should find, for instance, an ineradicable tendency 
to believe in God or immortality, do not allow yourself to 
be disturbed by the blather of so-called freethinkers. And 
if you find an equally resistant tendency to deny all re- 
ligious ideas do not hesitate: deny them and see how that 
influences your general welfare and your state of mental or 
spiritual nutrition. But beware of childishness: whether you 
call the ultimate unknown "God" or "Matter" is equally 
futile, since we know neither the one nor the other, though 
we doubtless have experiences of both. But we know noth- 
ing beyond them, and we cannot produce either the one or 
the other. 

Then you don't thinly it is futile for people to place their 
hopes in the possibility of life after death? 

As there is no possibility of proof, it is just as legitimate 
to believe in life after death as it is to doubt it. We have 
experiences which point both ways. The only important 
thing is to find out which of your views agrees better with 
your general disposition. There are healthy and unhealthy, 
helpful and obnoxious ideas. Nobody in his senses will eat 
indigestible food, and corespondingly a sensible person will 
avoid unsuitable thoughts and opinions. In case of doubt, 
try to learn from the traditional wisdom of all times and 
peoples. This gives you ample information about the so- 
called eternal ideas and values which have been shared by 

448 



The Art of Living 

mankind since earliest times. One should not be deterred 
by the rather silly objection that nobody knows whether 
these old universal ideas — God, immortality, freedom of the 
will, and so on — are "true" or not. Truth is the wrong 
criterion here. One can only ask whether they are helpful 
or not, whether man is better off and feels his life more 
complete, more meaningful and more satisfactory with or 
without them. 

Agnosticism is never sufficient when it comes to the 
question of life as a whole. We need certain general views 
about things we cannot know in order to sum up our 
specific life experiences or to satisfy our desire for self- 
cognition and wholeness. And as nobody knows what the 
truth is, everybody is free to partake of such ideas or to 
reject them. 

It does make a difference, however, whether your opin- 
ions or convictions coincide with traditional and universal 
wisdom or not, since if you agree, you are swimming in and 
carried along by the universal current of instinctive mental 
behavior, and, if you disagree, you have it against you. A 
negative attitude has its merit too, as it gives you the satis- 
factory feeling that you are capable of resisting the general 
temptation to fall in with collective prejudices. Such a re- 
sistance may even prepare you in a most efficient way for a 
later firm conviction of the contrary. The same is true in a 
reversed sense in the case of one who is carried along by the 
ideas of his time and milieu without ever questioning 
himself about their validity. 

Young people today are often accused by their elders of 
being fascinated by a philosophy of despair. Do you agree? 
Young people of today, inasmuch as they feel revolu- 
tionary, are simply realizing what their parents and educa- 
tors did not admit openly to themselves, namely disbelief 
and doubt in religious and moral notions. In the absence of 
philosophic reflection, their parents based their lives on a 



449 



1960 

positive and practical conviction of an entirely materialistic 
and rationalistic kind, being supported in this attitude by 
the enormous influence of the sciences. 

One of the most impressive examples is modern physics, 
which has finally recognized the atom as a cosmic unity. 
Such a discovery might well have satisfied our desire for 
unity, oneness, and wholeness, but today we already know 
of more than thirty smaller particles making up the whole- 
ness of the atom. That is typical of what happens in the 
science of nature; it never leads to simple oneness and 
wholeness, but into the multiplicity and segregation of — to 
use an Eastern term — the "ten thousand things." This is the 
strict contrary of integration into the oneness and wholeness 
of the individual as well as of the cosmos. 

The older generation of today looks with startled eyes 
upon their children and their more or less curious behavior. 
But the children live by preference the unlived unconscious 
lives of their parents, that which their parents did not know, 
did not dare, and denied to exist, sometimes against their 
better knowledge. 

Even today education in general has not yet discovered 
that for pedagogical purposes it would be far more impor- 
tant to know parent- instead of child-psychology. Parents 
should marvel at nothing except at their own naivete and 
ignorance of their own psychology, which is, in turn, the 
harvest sown by the grandparents — naivete and ignorance 
carrying on the curse of unconsciousness into an indefinite 
future. My answer to this problem is: education of the 
educator — or schools for adults, who have never been taught 
about the requirements of human life after forty. 

What do you consider to be more or less basic factors 
making for happiness in the human mind? 

i. Good physical and mental health. 

2. Good personal and intimate relations, such as those of 
marriage, the family, and friendships. 



450 



The Art of Living 

3. The faculty for perceiving beauty in art and nature. 

4. Reasonable standards of living and satisfactory work. 

5. A philosophic or religious point of view capable of 
coping successfully with the vicissitudes of life. 

Both the standard of living the work depend, of course, 
largely upon the reasonableness of one's expectations and 
one's responsibility. Extravagances can cause both happiness 
and unhappiness. And along with a philosophic or religious 
outlook must go a corresponding practical morality, since 
without that both philosophy and religion are mere make- 
believe, without concrete effects. 

A list of the factors determining unhappiness would be 
much longer! What you dislike and fear seems to be just 
waiting for you, and what you seek and desire seems to be 
most evasive — and when you find it at last it may easily be 
not exactly flawless. Nobody can achieve happiness through 
preconceived ideas, one should rather call it a gift of the 
gods. It comes and goes, and what has made you happy 
once does not necessarily do so at another time. 

All factors which are generally assumed to make for 
happiness can, under certain conditions, produce the con- 
trary. No matter how ideal your situation may be, it does 
not necessarily guarantee happiness. A relatively slight dis- 
turbance of your biological or psychological equilibrium 
may suffice to destroy your happiness. No good health, no 
favorable financial conditions, no untroubled family rela- 
tions can protect you, for instance, against unspeakable 
boredom, a boredom which might make you welcome even 
the change of circumstances brought about by a not too 
severe illness. 

Yet you are a firm believer in the possibility of happiness in 
life — even in marriage? 

The most elusive of intangibles! Be that as it may, one 
thing is certain: there are as many nights as days, and the 
one is just as long as the other in the year's course. Even a 



45i 



1960 

happy life cannot be without a measure of darkness, and the 
word "happy" would lose its meaning if it were not bal- 
anced by sadness. Of course it is understandable that we 
seek happiness and avoid unlucky and disagreeable chances, 
despite the fact that reason teaches us that such an attitude 
is not reasonable because it defeats its own ends— the more 
you deliberately seek happiness the more sure you are not 
to find it. It is therefore far better to take things as they 
come along, with patience and equanimity. After all, per- 
haps once in a while there will be something good, lucky 
or enjoyable for you in Fortune's bag of relevant and ir- 
relevant gifts. 

(Dr. Jung reached down and picked up his hat and his 
antique malacca walking stick from the grass. I com- 
mented oh the carving of the cane's heavy silver knob.) 

Yes, it's an old Chinese carving. Look, you see it's a 
dragon, and on his tail is a flower with a precious pearl 
inside it. It's an allusion to the old alchemists' symbol of the 
snake biting its tail, but the dragon, of course, is the Chinese 
symbol of good fortune. He's always chasing after that 
flower, round and round the stick, but he will never catch 
it, because it's on his tail. Really, he's rather like those high- 
brows I was talking about, eh? 



452 



AN EIGHTY-FIFTH BIRTHDAY 

INTERVIEW FOR 

SWITZERLAND 



« » I M > > I M « I M t M * I 



Georg Gerster again interviewed Jung on June 7, i960, at 
Kiisnacht, for broadcast via the Swiss radio network, which 
also made a present of the tape recording to the University of 
Basel, where it was placed in an archive of the voices of distin- 
guished Swiss contemporaries. Jung would not consent to being 
interviewed by anyone but Gerster, who had to be called back 
from the Sinai Peninsula, where he was photographing for a 
new book. Sixteen years later, Gerster recalled in a letter to the 
editor of the present collection: "Dr. Jung refused to name a 
specific topic for our interview, so I had to go there unpre- 
pared. After I had officially closed the conversation by thank- 
ing him, Dr. Jung continued to speak, in Swiss dialect, telling 
me about a dream he had had. Fortunately, the radio techni- 
cians outside the house (in the van with the recording equip- 
ment) let the tape run on. These last ten minutes — which could 
not be used as they were recorded without his knowledge — 
don't add to the subjects that had come up within the official 
interview, but are a memorable piece of a very earthy C. G. 
Jung." The interview was first broadcast on July 3, i960, and 
several times more until the birthday on July 26. It was re- 
broadcast on June 5, 1966, in remembrance of Jung's death on 
June 6, 1 961. 



Again and again, Professor Jung, I have been struck by the 
inscription that is carved over the door of your house: "Vo- 
catus atque non vocatus deus aderit" — "Invoked or not 
invoked the god will be present." — / believe it is an oracle 
of some kind? 



453 



1960 

Yes, a saying of the Delphic oracle. When the Lacedae- 
monians wanted to make war against the Athenians, they 
consulted the oracle and the oracle answered that the god 
would be present — aderit. 

May I as\ why just this saying stands over the door of your 
house? 

Well, that is a very complicated story. It has been my 
experience that these religious phenomena are to be met 
with everywhere, whether they are intentional or not. It 
only needs an emergency, a serious emergency, and then 
these religious utterances burst out again. Thus, when one 
is greatly astonished or surprised, everyone, even if he 
doesn't believe in God, says "Oh God" or "By God," and 
these are involuntary exclamations of a religious nature, 
because they use the name of God. 

Mustn't we define the term "religious" rather more closely, 
or at least define the way you use it? 
Well, we have to take it in a pretty wide sense. 

/ was only thinking that when you say "God" it could also 
mean "idol"? 

Yes, naturally it can mean all sorts of things, it can also 
be a mere word. But they still belong to the sphere of re- 
ligion. All religious phenomena that are not just Church 
rituals are bound up with emotions. That is why we ob- 
serve these religious manifestations chiefly— as I have said— 
in moments of emergency or under very emotional con- 
ditions. 

Doesn't the idea of "meaning" belong to the concept of 
religion as you now define it? I mean, anything that hap- 
pens to the ego out of the unconscious — for that is what we 
are talking about, isn't it? — 
Yes. 



454 



An Eighty-Fifth Birthday Interview 

— must have a meaning, not at the moment perhaps, not 
within the narrow horizon of the ego, but in a wider sense 
for the personality as a whole? 

Yes, that is so. The concept of the archetype, which we 
are considering here, is, as we say, "numinous," it has a 
sort of overwhelming power. It is by its very nature emo- 
tional, and so an archetype like the idea of God or of a 
supernatural power will appear in highly emotional situa- 
tions. Take a situation, a moment of panic for instance, 
when a man is at the end of his tether. Maybe a prayer will 
be forced out of him, he will revert to a view of things he 
once had, but quite spontaneously, without any kind of 
reflection. It simply forces itself on him. So whenever some- 
thing happens that has an overwhelming effect, an answer 
will arise in us to this overwhelming thing. This shows that 
situations in which a man feels defeated very often give 
rise to religious phenomena, that people, without wanting 
to, suddenly fall back into this form, or rather, this form is 
simply forced on them without their taking up any kind 
of intellectual attitude towards it. 

May I come bac\ again to the word "religious"? As you are 
using it now, it really always refers to inner, psychic phe- 
nomena, I mean phenomena which we don't need to bother 
the theologian with, for instance? 
No, no, they are perfectly natural phenomena! 

Then the rescuing unconscious must stand in a quite special 
relationship to the ego, that was not \nown to the earlier 
psychologists, or even to Freud? 

That is quite right. When a man is in a real emergency, 
instinct will come to his aid, forms of action and behavior, 
of thinking, feeling, etc., which are termed instinctive. For 
instance, when you are being attacked, you immediately 
take up an instinctive posture of defense. You make all the 
necessary gestures, have all the necessary ideas that fit the 



455 



1960 

situation. Although the situation can develop in a flash, 
everything is there, everything is at the ready, because from 
time immemorial human beings have constantly found 
themselves in such situations. Like every animal, they have 
instincts that are innate. All animals have their postures of 
attack, their postures of defense, they behave in a quite 
specific way that is characteristic of the species — and so does 
man. 

But isn't it a discovery of a quite special kind that this is 
also true of the psyche? 

That's just what "psychic" means! We call it "psychic," 
you see, when in a moment of danger you say certain things, 
use certain expressions, certain images. When you begin to 
swear, for instance, you make use of well-known expres- 
sions which you don't have to look for long, they are ready 
to hand. In the same way the foundation of our conscious 
psyche is a system of inherited, instinctive modes of be- 
havior, as is the case everywhere, and that is what we mean 
by an archetype. 

You said somewhere that our consciousness -floats upon this 
collective unconscious as upon a sea. 1 
Yes, yes ! 

In other words, it is in the safe peeping of the unconscious? 
Yes, you can say that up to a point unconscious forces 
come to our aid when the conscious mind is in a situation of 
being overpowered. But it can also happen that effects 
emanate from the unconscious which are not a direct reac- 
tion to an external emergency, but produce one. 

Can you give an example? 

Yes. In all critical phases of life, as in early childhood, at 
puberty, when you marry or take up a career, at the turning 
point between thirty-six and forty, in women at the change 

1 "Psychology and Religion," CW n, par. 141. 

456 



An Eighty-Fifth Birthday Interview 

of life, and in men at the climacteric between fifty and 
sixty, psychic situations can arise whose meaning is over- 
looked. A young man, for instance, may not yet have suf- 
ficient self-knowledge to know exactly how he feels or 
what kind of career he wants to take up. If it becomes a 
problem that worries him, dreams may appear, instinctive 
reactions as I have said, that show him how he really feels 
or what he really wants to do. When you read biographies 
you can easily come across these things. The thirty-sixth 
year is for many men a very critical year, because a great 
change is taking place of which they know nothing: the 
sun has started on its downward course and then their 
attitude can change in a remarkable way. Take the case of 
Nietzsche, along comes Zarathustra, or of Fechner turning 
into a mystic philosopher, and so on. I have also experienced 
it myself, how this second half of life, which is quite un- 
expected, is ushered in by dreams. Then you often have 
dreams that are almost like precognitions, they foresee how 
the future will develop. But that is only a manifestation of 
our original instinctive makeup. One man, for instance, has 
a particular idea of life owing to his education, or whatever, 
and this idea is too narrow and he is not so narrow but 
doesn't know it, and then he has a dream, perhaps about a 
much fuller life, and about quite different aspects of the 
world he has never thought of before, and then it dawns on 
him: Aha, that is a possibility! I have seen it with myself. 
For a long time I was in doubts whether I really ought to 
study archaeology, history, and suchlike, and then I had a 
vivid dream or two which challenged my scientific interests 
to the limit, and they decided me in favor of science. 

But that is a view of dreams that does not agree at all with 
Freud's view, I'm thinking of a saying of Schnitzler's, who, 
probably copying Freud, wrote that "dreams are desires 
without courage." It is a conception of dreams that starts 
purely from the past and does not point into the future, like 
yours. 

457 



1960 



Yes, in this respect my view naturally differs enormously 
from Freud's original view, according to which dreams can 
be traced back mainly to unfulfilled wishes that are ven- 
tilated at night. Certainly there are masses of such dreams, 
which can be explained more or less satisfactorily that way, 
but that is not the real function of dreams. Dreams are 
normal functions, they are normal occurrences that are part 
of human life. Hence all primitives have a great respect for 
dreams, not always of course for their own, but when the 
chief dreams, or the witch doctor — that's something else! 
Because there, under really primitive conditions, dreams still 
have a social function. Rasmussen, in his book about the 
Polar Eskimos, 2 describes the case of a shaman who, guided 
by dreams, led his tribe [from Greenland] over the frozen 
sea of Baffin Bay to the extreme north of the continent, 
because there were no seals that year, and there they found 
the food they needed. But on the journey half the tribe 
began to doubt and turned back, and they all perished, 
while the people he led stayed alive. 

From this point of view, then, it follows that it is absolutely 
necessary for the psychotherapist to get his patient, the 
psychically sic\ person, into a productive relation with the 
unconscious? 

Yes, precisely. The therapist even steers the patient 
towards being confronted with a situation which is in- 
soluble, where he is forced to admit that he doesn't know 
the way out, and the therapist doesn't know the way out 
either. This brings the situation to a head in a favorable 
manner, so that the unconscious begins to function. Then 
comes a dream from which you can infer something that 
points the way ahead. These are the situations in which 
religious dreams occur, of far-reaching significance — what 
the primitives call "big" dreams. 

2 Knud Rasmussen, Across Arctic America (New York, 1927), 
chap. Ill: "A Wizard and His Household." 

458 



An Eighty-Fifth Birthday Interview 

Do you thin\ our present civilization needs criticizing in 
the light of this knowledge? 

Well, that is certainly proved by these individual cases. 
You see, people suffer mostly from too purblind an outlook, 
too limited a horizon. They don't think at all about the 
possibilities that also exist, and so it often needs dreams to 
make them pay attention to what they could still do, or to 
what they have neglected. This brings a wholly new element 
into the treatment. For instance, I have often come across 
highly intellectual men, actively engaged in science shall we 
say, who get into conflict with their lives because they com- 
pletely neglect the sphere of feeling, are utterly clueless in 
this respect, and they are the very ones who have dreams 
and even visions. I remember one very important man who 
came to me in a perfect panic and told me he had a vision 
and it just couldn't be true! I got him to tell me his vision 
and, remarkably enough, it was a typical vision such as the 
old alchemists had. So I fetched a four-hundred-year-old 
book from my shelves and opened it at the picture, held it 
out to him and said: "Look, there is your vision. You 
haven't dropped out of human history, you simply don't 
know that you are human too!" 

When I ashed you earlier about a critique of our civilization 
I didn't actually mean these individual cases but was think- 
ing of the problem of our time, as they say. There must 
have been periods when man's relations with the uncon- 
scious through various other channels of communication 
were infinitely more alive than they are today. 

Yes, there is no doubt that it was only the nineteenth 
century that broke with this tradition and became increas- 
ingly intellectual, with the result that a lot of vitally neces- 
sary things have become obsolete. Just think of the crisis of 
Christianity we are passing through today— it simply means 
that we have lost all sense of its necessity. We no longer 
know what it is good for. In earlier times people knew, in a 



459 



1960 

way. Naturally they had faith, but this faith was rooted in 
the feeling that the Christian tradition was "satisfactory," it 
was something self-evident, part of the picture. Even with 
scientific books, you need only think of old Scheuchzer, 3 
of Zurich, who began his scientific works with the story of 
Creation! 

Do you see any chance for psychology to do something 
here? I mean, you can't put the cloc\ bac\. 
No, that's impossible. 

On the other hand, as a psychologist with these insights, 
you can't let the world go its own sweet way! 

Yes, but what is the voice of a single individual? These 
things are evidently so difficult to understand that you just 
can't talk to people about them. It is amazing how little 
people understand of such matters. They don't think about 
them at all. Naturally, a very great deal could be said in 
this respect. But, you see, it concerns the individual so very 
much that it is far too boring for people! Of course, if I 
knew a remedy that could be injected into ten thousand 
people at one go, that would be popular, especially if one 
didn't have to do anything about it oneself. But the very 
idea that you should begin with yourself, that is totally out 
of the question! One must always have something that is 
good for a hundred thousand, for a million people, but not 
for the individual, he is far too uninteresting. We have been 
so convinced by science how nugatory a human life is, and 
contemporary history has indeed demonstrated before our 
eyes how human lives count for nothing. And the individual 
is so utterly convinced of his nothingness that he makes no 
effort to get anywhere with himself, to develop himself 
inwardly in any way. It is too hopeless, the individual is 
nothing, and it is naturally a false view that the individual 

3 Johann Jakob Scheuchzer (1672-1733), physician, polymath, one 
of the founders of the science of palaeontology, pioneer in the re- 
search of Swiss geography. 

460 



An Eighty-Fifth Birthday Interview 

is nothing. The individual is the vessel of life. Every indi- 
vidual is the bearer of life, and life is borne only by indi- 
viduals. It does not exist in itself, there is no life of the 
millions. That is nonsense, but millions of individuals are 
vessels of life and for each of them the problem of the 
individual is the whole problem. And then they say: "Yes, 
but look at So-and-so, that's no vessel of life!" The indi- 
vidual is banalized, you see. Most people get discouraged. 
The theologians surely ought to be convinced that the indi- 
vidual soiil is the vessel of life, and the thing of greatest 
importance. Yet a theologian told me himself: "We must 
get through to the masses. If we tried to treat every single 
individual we would never get anywhere!" I said: "Well, 
how did Christianity conquer the world in the first place? 
It always went from individual to individual." 

Neurotics naturally think that way too, but they soon 
change their tune when they see that nothing changes in 
them if they do not take themselves seriously. But taking 
yourself seriously is considered improper, you're an eccen- 
tric, putting on self-important airs, etc. Everywhere you 
come up against this depreciation of the human psyche. Of 
course when you say "the human psyche" everyone thinks 
it's fine, it is someone else's affair, but I myself and what I 
do are not considered at all. If nobody bothers about his 
own psyche, then there is nothing you can do from the psy- 
chological angle, you can only say how things are and make 
yourself unpopular! 



461 



TALKS WITH MIGUEL SERRANO. 
1961 



MM I M MhHHH I H IMI 



Serrano returned to India, and later in 1959 he completed his 
stories of the Queen of Sheba, had them all translated into 
English, and sent a copy of the English typescript to Jung, who 
responded with a letter on January 14, i960. Jung permitted 
Serrano to publish the letter as a foreword to the English 
translation — Visits of the Queen of Sheba (Bombay, i960; 
London, 1972). 1 

While in Zurich again in September i960 (Jung was ill and 
could not see him) Serrano consulted the / Ching to discover 
whether rhe time had come for him to leave India. He con- 
strued the oracle's answer as yes. (He was later reassigned to 
Belgrade.) On January 23, 1961, he again visited Jung at 
Kiisnacht. 



I am going to leave India. I have consulted the I Ching, 
and it has advised me to do so. 

You must do what it says, because that book does not 
make mistakes. In any case, there is a definite connection 
between the individual psyche and the world. When I 
find it difficult for me to classify a patient, I always send 
him off to have a horoscope made. This horoscope always 
corresponds to his character, and I interpret it psychologi- 
cally. So strong is the correspondence between the world 
and the psyche that it is even possible that inventions and 
the ideas of three-dimensional time are simply reflections of 
the mental structure. Thus I was able to predict the last war 
simply from analyzing my patients' dreams, because Wotan 2 

1 In CW 18, par. 1769. Also see Letters, ed. G. Adler, vol. 2, for 
letters to Serrano of March 31 and Sept. 14, i960. 

2 Cf. "Wotan," in CW 10. 



462 



TalJ{s with Miguel Serrano 

always used to appear in them. I was not able to predict the 
first world war, however, because even though I had pre- 
monitions myself, I was not analyzing dreams in those days. 
Altogether, I have analyzed forty-one dreams which fore- 
cast grave illness or death. 



I've also come to see Hermann. Hesse. He believes that the 
right road is simply one which is in agreement with nature. 
That is also my philosophy. Man should live according to 
his own nature; he should concentrate on self-knowledge 
and then live in accordance with the truth about himself. 
What would you say about a tiger who was a vegetarian? 
You would say, of course, that he was a bad tiger. Thus 
everyone must live in accordance with his nature, both indi- 
vidually and collectively. The best example of that method 
is to be found in India, and the worst, I suppose, is in Rus- 
sia. Russia is a country with a magnificent organization, but 
it doesn't function at all, as is obvious in its agricultural 
failures. The Russians haven't bothered to discover what 
man really is; they have simply tried to treat him as a 
wholly rational and mechanical being. Obviously what is 
necessary for them is not to devise a theory about agricul- 
ture, but to devise a theory about man, and to impose that 
theory or concept. I once knew an old lady who was very 
aristocratic and noble, and who conducted her life accord- 
ing to the most exquisite ideas of refinement; but at night 
she would dream about drunkenness, and in those dreams 
she herself would become hopelessly intoxicated. And so 
one must be what one is; one must discover one's own in- 
dividuality, that center of personality, which is equidistant 
between the conscious and the unconscious; we must aim 
for that ideal point towards which nature appears to be 
directing us. Only from that point can one satisfy one's 
needs. 



463 



1961 

The Hindus would seem to be saying the same thing when 
they say that it is better to be partially fulfilled within one's 
own karma, than perfectly within a foreign karma. 
Exactly. 

Professor Jung, do you believe that your system could 
function outside of the West, that is, where the psyche is not 
so divided? For example, there are no neurotics in India, 
and so far as I know, there are none in Burma, or in Indo- 
nesia, Thailand, or China. And I suppose the reason is that 
the inhabitants of those countries are not persons in the 
Western Christian sense. As you said, when we first talked 
in Locarno, the persona is the product of the sudden im- 
position of Christianity upon a barbarous Nordic people, 
with all its resultant inhibitions and uncontrollable drives. 
Yes, arid I suppose that very lack of personality is what 
makes the East able to accept with such ease collective sys- 
tems like Communism, and religious systems like Bud- 
dhism, which aim above all to annihilate the idea of 
personality. 

A little while ago, when I was lunching with Hesse, I asked 
him how it was that I'd had the good fortune to find myself 
seated at his table; and he told me that it was no mere 
accident since only the right guests came there. He spoke 
of the Hermetic Circle. 

That's true; mind attracts mind. Only the correct ones 
come, and we are directed by the unconscious, because the 
unconscious knows. Once I was on a train, and a General 
sat down beside me. We talked, and although he did not 
know who I was, he told me all about his dreams, which is 
certainly unusual for a man of his position. The General 
considered that his dreams were absurd, but after listening 
to him, I told him that one of his dreams had changed his 
whole life, and that otherwise he would have been an 
intellectual. The General was startled and looked at me as 



464 



Talks with Miguel Serrano 

though I were a witch, or at least a person gifted with 
second sight. 3 But in reality, it was the unconscious which 
was knowing and directing. The General had sat down 
next to me because he was unconsciously searching for an 
answer. In the same way, I could tell you things about your 
own life which would startle you. . . . 

(Jung then leaned forward and gazed fixedly into my eyes. 
In the shadows of the late afternoon, his body seemed to 
grow larger and larger, and I had the feeling that I was 
facing an incarnation of Abraxas* I felt a sudden chill, and 
then seemed to hear distant voices coming from this power- 
ful being, swirling about us both, like echoes out of the 
ages.) 



Serrano visited Jung for the last time on May 10, 1961, less than 
a month before Jung's death. The conversation took place in the 
study at Kusnacht. 



(Jung was seated beside the window, dressed in a Japanese 
ceremonial gown, so that in the light of the late afternoon 
he looked like a magician or a priest of some ancient cult. 
I gave him the small gift which I had brought him from the 
East — a turquoise box from Kashmir similar to the one 
which I had given Hermann Hesse in Montagnola. He 
took it in his hands, looking at it and feeling it.) 

Turquoise from Kashmir. I never went there; I only saw 
Bengal and the north-east of India, and Madura in the 
south. Thank you for this beautiful gift. 

3 Cf. "Analytical Psychology and Education" (1924), CW 17, par. 
187, for a different version of this story. 

4 A Gnostic deity, mentioned by Jung in his Seven Sermons to the 
Dead (privately printed 1916; in Memories, Dreams, Reflections, 
2nd. edn., appendix) and by Hesse in Demian (1917). 

465 



1961 

/ have just come from seeing Hermann Hesse, and we 
talked about death. I asked Hesse whether it was important 
to know if there was something beyond death. Hesse had 
said that he thought not, that he thought that death was 
probably li\e entering the collective unconscious, falling 
into it, perhaps. 

Your question was badly put. It would be better phrased 
in this way: Is there any reason to believe that there is life 
after death? 

And is there? 

Were it possible for the mind to function at the margin of 
the brain, it would be incorruptible. 

Is such a thing possible? 

Parapsychological phenomena suggest that it is. I myself 
have experienced certain things which also indicate it. Once 
I was gravely ill, almost in a coma. Everybody thought that 
I was suffering terribly, but in fact, I was experiencing 
something extremely pleasant. I seemed to be floating over 
my body, far above it. Then, after my father died, I saw him 
several times. Of course that does not mean that he in fact 
appeared. His appearances may have been entirely subjective 
phenomena on my part. 

But isn't it possible that all these things are in fact external 
and objective, and not merely something which happens in 
the mind? Hesse talkj about the Collective Unconscious as 
if it existed externally, and he considers that death may 
merely be a falling into that state. 

During the war, I saw men who had received brain 
wounds which paralyzed the functions of the cerebral cor- 
tex, and thus prevented them from having any sense of time 
or space. Nevertheless, they were still able to dream, and 
some of them had important visions. Now if the brain is 
entirely paralyzed, the question is what organ produces the 
dream? With what part of his body does a man dream? 
Is it something physical? Or is it an indication that in fact 

466 



Talks with Miguel Serrano 

the mind acts independently of the brain? I don't know, 
but it's an interesting hypothesis. 

There are other phenomena which can support this hy- 
pothesis. You know, of course, that a small child has no 
clearly defined sense of the ego. The child's ego is diffused 
and dispersed throughout his body. Nevertheless, it has 
been proven that small children have dreams in which the 
ego is clearly defined, just as it is in mature people. In these 
dreams, the child has a clear sense of the persona. Now if, 
from a physiological point of view, the child has no ego, 
what is it in the child which produces these dreams, dreams 
which, I may add, affect him for the rest of his life ? And 
another question: If the physical ego disappears at death, 
does that other ego also disappear, that other which had 
sent him dreams as a child? 

{As I listened to him, I was once again struck by the mag- 
nificent rigor of Jung's mind. On the very threshold of death 
he was still searching and hoping to believe; but his scien- 
tific objectivity prevented him from pronouncing a single 
word which would not correspond to demonstrable ex- 
periences.) 

Today no one pays attention to what lies behind words, 
to the basic ideas that are there. Yet the idea is the only 
thing that is truly there. What I have done in my work is 
simply to give new names to those ideas, to those realities. 
Consider, for example, the word "unconscious." I have just 
finished reading a book by a Chinese Zen Buddhist. And it 
seemed to me that we were talking about the same thing, 
and that the only difference between us was that we gave 
different words to the same reality. Thus the use of the 
word Unconscious doesn't matter; what counts is the idea 
that lies behind the word. 

(On the small table beside the chair where fung was sitting 
was a book called The Human Phenomenon by Teilhard 
de Char din. 1 as\ed Jung whether he had read it.) 
It is a great book. 

467 



1961 

(/ noticed the Gnostic ring on his finger, and asked him 
what the symbols meant.) 

It is Egyptian. Here the serpent is carved, which sym- 
bolizes Christ. Above it, the face of a woman; below the 
number 8, which is a symbol of the Infinite, of the Laby- 
rinth, and of the Road to the Unconscious. I have changed 
one or two things on the ring so that the symbol will be 
Christian. All of these symbols are absolutely alive within 
me, and each one of them creates a reaction within my soul. 

/ thinly that in your own being you represent a lin\ with the 
secrets of the past. You have found the connecting road, the 
path which was lost with the coming of the European En- 
lightenment, if not before, fust as the Renaissance found a 
bond with the external Classic Age, so you, for our own 
time, seem to have established a lin\ with its internal side. 
Thus, thanks to you, the essential qualities of man are able 
to survive. In his own time, Meister Echhart performed the 
same role. 

What I have tried to do is to show the Christian what the 
Redeemer really is, and what the resurrection is. Nobody 
today seems to know, or to remember, but the idea still 
exists in dreams. 

Do you thin\ there is something essentially irrelevant in our 
discussion of such things? Are our concerns really outdated 
in this present age of supertechnology and interplanetary 
travel? I as\ed Hesse what he thought would happen to 
introspective people in the future, and he was very pessi- 
mistic. 

Space nights to other worlds are still a long way off. 
Sooner or later man will have to return to earth, and to the 
land from which he comes; that is to say, man will have to 
return to himself. Space nights are merely an escape, a 
fleeing away from oneself, because it is easier to go to Mars 
or to the moon than it is to penetrate one's own being. But 
what is dangerous about this frantic interest in spatial con- 

468 



Talks with Miguel Serrano 

quest is that it symbolizes a state of complete anxiety in 
man. This anxiety would seem to be caused by a fear of the 
world's population explosion. In a way, space flights seem 
to be an instinctive reaction to this problem. 

(/ realized that I had stayed too long. . . . I clasped Jung's 
hands and bowed and then moved very slowly towards the 
door. When I reached it I turned bac\ to loo\ at him. He 
was contemplating me very fixedly, wrapped in the light of 
the late afternoon which played on his Oriental gown. He 
raised his hand and made a sign of farewell?) 



C. G. Jung died at his home in Kiisnacht on 6 June iq6i. 



469 



INDEX 



IIMH t miHMm i M I M 



Abraxas, 465 

Absolute, the 377 

Abu Simbel, 419 

Adam, Rabbinic tradition of, 

355 

Adler, Alfred, 60, 64, 100, 341, 
343; Adlerian psychology, 
beginning of, 252-53; with 
Freud, 278-79, 280; Jung's 
opinion of, 269 

Adler, Gerhard, xviii, 59, 82, 

197 

Africa: boy delivering mail, 
79-80, 102-3; European 
colonies, 132; greeting to the 
sun, 353-54, 419-20; haunted 
houses, 185; Jung in, 32-37, 
40. 44. 79~ 8 °. J 42, I7 6 » 262, 
294, .353-54. 4i7> 419-20; 
medicine man and dreams, 
93, 1 13-14; trees, men 
responsible for, 355 

agnosticism, 449 

Albrecht (Albert I), murder of, 
213, 293-94, 415 

alchemy, 143, 147, 227-29, 
4°3-5. 444; archetypes in, 
350-51; conclusions on, 
228-29; mystic wedding, 405; 
quadratura circuit, 327, 421; 
red and white as symbols, 
327; tree symbolism, 356; 
visions, 459 

Alexander the Great, 412 

Allenby, Amy L., xvi; contact 
with Jung, 156-59 

Allport, Gordon, 276 

America/Americans, see United 
States 

American Weekly, 443 



anal stage of development, 
287-88 

analysis (Jungian), antique 
philosophy compared with, 
256; dissatisfaction with, 255, 
256; as education, 255; Great 
Old Man in, 359-64; human 
bond in, 362-63; as letting 
out the unconscious, 360; 
as therapy, 255-56; see also 
psychoanalysis 

Analytical Psychology Club, 
New York: Bulletin, 192; 
Memories and Perspectives 
Marking the Centennial of 
C. G. Jung's Birth, 171 

Analytical Psychology Club, 
San Francisco, 168 

Angulo, Jaime de, xivw, xvi 

Angulo, Ximena de, xvi; 
report of Jung's comments 
on Progoff's thesis, 205-18 

animus/anima: anima absent 
in German literature, 152, 
300; archetypes of, 294-96, 
300; conflict of, 26, 263-64; as 
father prototype, 27; Hitler's 
anima, 140; as mana, 213; 
men's adaptation to women's 
animus, 26-27; negative and 
positive relationship to, 28-29; 
old and young souls, 29; 
professional women and 
animus, 26-27; ^ voice of 
God, 28 

Anthropos, 176 

Antichrist, 228-29 

anti-Semitism, 126, 192, 193, 445 

Aquarius, era of, 375, 413, 444 

Aquinas, St. Thomas, 160 



47 1 



Index 



archetype/archetypes, 215-16, 
231, 292-96, 300, 342, 363, 
414-15; in alchemy, 350-51; 
of anima and animus, 294-96, 
300; of animals, 209; and 
behavior, 292-94; Christ as, 
401; and Christian symbolism, 
358; deity as, 346-47; demons 
as, 218; in dreams, 370; 
Elijah as, 235-36; in Gnosti- 
cism, 350; in Indian philoso- 
phy, 398; as instinct, 213; 
Jews and Protestants do not 
allow representation of, 271; 
mandala as, 327-28; in myths, 
289, 293, 348; Oedipus 
complex as, 288-89, 2 9 2 ; m 
religion, 455; spelling of 
word, 213; symbols in history, 
326-27 > 

Aries, era of, 412 

Aristotle, 211 

art: modern, 219, 221-22, 414; 
and subconscious, 42, 45 

Aschner, Bernhard, 39 

association/word association, 
8772, 278, 282, 329, 336 

Assumption, dogma of, 271, 

367. 403 
astrology, 160, 174, 444 
atman, 394-95 
atomic bombs: and surplus 

population, 375; threat of, 

267, 375 
Augustus, Emperor, 373 
Avalon, Arthur, 399« 

Baal Shem, 27222 

Bach, Johann Sebastian, 249 

Bachofen, J. J., 208 

Baer, Rabbi Dow, 272 

Bailey, Ruth, 274, 365 

Barth, Karl, 386 

Basel Psychology Club 
(Psychologische Gesellschaft), 
Jung's "seminar" with, 370-91 

Basel University, 146*2, 453 

Baudouin, Charles, xvi, 156; 



impressions of Jung, 76-81, 

146-48, 234-36, 365-66 
Baumann, Carol, xvi; interview 

with Jung, 192-200 
Baumann, Dieter, 365 
Bayes, Marian, notes of Jung's 

talk at Jung Institute 

(Zurich), 359-64 
Baynes, Cary F., xvi, 205 
Baynes, Helton Godwin, xvi, 

3372; Jung dreams of him, 

183 
bear, Swiss totem, 77 
Beckwith, George, 34/2, 36 
behavior patterns, 292 
Bennet, E. A., 4272, 136, 258 
Bench, Pierre, L'Atlantide, zg6 
Bergson, Henri, 78 
Beringer, Kurt, 381/2 
Berlin, Jung's seminar (1933), 

59 
Berthelot, M., 14122 
Bertine, Eleanor, xvi, 94; 

memoir of Jung, 171-79 
Binswanger, Ludwig, 23822 
birth trauma, 286 
Bismarck, Otto von, 304 
Black, Stephen, xi; interviews 

with Jung for BBC television 

and radio, 252-67 
blacks, see Negroes 
Bleuler, Eugen, 10, 18622, 277 
Blum, Leon, 126 
Bohler, Eugen, 422 
Bollingen, Jung's retreat at, 

50-51, 162-63, I0 7, 168-70, 

183, 266, 406, 409 
Bollingen Foundation, 192, 

205, 276 
Bollingen Prize in Poetry, 192 
Bonaventure, St., 21622 
Boss, Medard, 23822 
brain damage, dreams and 

consciousness in, 381-82, 

466-67 
Brand, Renee, xvi; contact with 

Jung, 161-62 
Breuer, Josef, 430 



472 



Index 



Bruno de Jesus-Marie, Pere, 

23522 
Buddha, 442; and immortality, 

376, 378-79 
Buddhism, 68, 441, 464; karma, 

376, 379; nidana chain, 376 
Burckhardt, Fritz, 4 
Burckhardt, Jacob, 207 
Burnett, Hugh, 424 
Burnett, Whit, xiii, interview 

with Jung, 47-48 

Calvin, John, 386 
Campbell, Joseph, 39922 
cancer, psychosomatic aspects, 

332-33 

capitalism, rebellion against, 
202-4 

Carlyle, Thomas, 167 

Carmelites, 235-36 

Carol, Hans, xv; interview 
with Jung, 20 1-4 

Carus, Carl Gustav, 207, 218, 
252 

Catholicism/Catholic Church: 
dogma, 211, 271, 373, 
387-88; and Easter customs, 
358; Germans may turn to, 
153; as protection against 
neuroses, 45; psychoanalysis 
compared with, 40; saints 
as archetypes, 293 

causality, nature of, 99-100 

Caussinus, Nicolas, De Sym- 
bolica Aegyptiorum sapientia, 

235 

cha\ras, 399-401 

Chamberlain, Neville, 119, 
120-21 

Charcot, Jean Martin, 417 

children: born with ancestral 
soul, 57; dreams, 467; early 
experiences, 58, 285-86; 
ego, 285, 467; illegitimate, 
288; interest in genitals, 
287-88; in New Testament 
teaching, becoming or 
remaining a child, 387; not 



born as tabula rasa, 287, 302, 

304. 336 
Chile, Hitlerism in, 124 
Chinese beliefs on soul, 143 
Chinese symbolism, dragon, 

452 

Chinese year of the swine, 442 

Christ, 230, 440-41; in alchemy, 
227; and Antichrist, 228-29; 
as archetype of hero, 401; in 
"glory," 421; and God, 97-98, 
227; gospel accounts of, 
367-68; incorruptible body of, 
387-88; as Logos, 75; myth 
of, and Egyptian influence, 
371-72; negative side, 165, 
440; and man working on 
Sabbath, 29; as self, 401; 
symbolism, 160; in trans- 
ference, 363 

Christianity: devil as uncon- 
scious in, 188; doctrines, 
367-68; introduced into 
Europe, 396-97; in modern 
life, 459-61; myths and truth 
in, 72, 74; Nazis oppose, 
123-24; primitive people's 
understanding of, 1 12-13; 
theology, 387-88 

Christmas tree, 353-58 

Christopher, St., 415 

chthonic nature of man, 359 

Churchill, Winston, 175, 183; 
in Jung's dream, 183 

clairvoyance, 312-13, 377, 378 

Clark University, Worcester, 
Mass., rr 

clergy, Jung's attitude toward, 
159-60, 440-41 

cocktails, 249 

Colette, 420 

collective representation, 214, 
215 

collective unconscious, 208, 217, 
35°> 4'5. 456; archetypes in, 
347; cases cited, 321-23; 
death as entrance to, 466; 
use of, 231 



473 



Index 



Combat, 225 

Communism, 92, 445, 464; and 
dictatorship, 131 

complexes: Jung differs with 
Freud on, 269; Jung's inven- 
tion of word "complex," 302, 

329 
Confucianism, 68 
Connelly, Marc, Green Pastures, 

I0IM 

consciousness, 214, 215; after 
death, 375-81; in brain injury, 
381-82; in Indian philosophy, 
392-94; Jung's concept of, 
218; and morality, 29 

Cosmopolitan, see Hearst's 
International-Cosmopolitan 

Courthion, Pierre, interview 
with Jung, 141-45 

creative achievement, 164-67 

creative imagination, 339 

creative instinct, 142 

Crete, ancient art of, 22 

Crookes, William, 9 

Czechoslovakia: England and 
France: guarantee frontiers, 
133-34, T 36; Hitler's seizure 
of, 120-21, 136-37 

Daily Mail (London), xiii, 244 

Daily Sketch (London), 91 

Dannhauer, J. C, 357 

Dante Alighieri, 373 

death: and collective uncon- 
scious, 466; consciousness 
after, 375-81; dreams related 
to, 183, 463; Jung's thoughts 
of, 219, 360, 437-38, 466; 
psychic phenomena asso- 
ciated with, 183; see also 
immortality 

Democritus, 303 

demons: anima as demon, 26; 
as archetypes, 218; fear of, 
27; in Germany after 2nd 
World War, 154-55; in 
primitive and civilized 



society, 151; self separated 
from, 27 

devil: contemporary belief in, 
142; in psychology, 150-51; 
Satan, 226-27, 22 9> 230-31; 
as unconscious, 188—89 

dictators, 88, 91-93, 115-35, 
136-40; chieftain type and 
medicine man type, 93, 
115-17, 126, 137; fathers and 
mothers of, 124, 129; Hitler, 
Mussolini, and Stalin com- 
pared, 1 15-17, 124-32; Jung 
proposes therapy for, 131-33; 
personal ambition, 129 

Dieterich, Albrecht, 434-35 

Dionysos, 220 

disease, bodily defense against, 

143 

dogs, Jung's, 51, 84, 157 

dominants (archetypes), 433 

Dostoevski, Feodor, 84 

"Douglas," Jung's secretary in 
Africa, 34, 36 

dreams, 89-90, 231; absence of, 
404; analysis of one's own, 
404; archetypal, 370; in brain 
injury, 381, 466-67; chil- 
dren's, 467; collective, and 
myth, 370-73; collective 
unconscious in, 321-23; in 
critical phases of life, 457-58; 
and death of person at a 
distance, 183; death or grave 
illness foretold in, 463; as 
defense, 143; of drunkenness, 
463; ESP in, 183; General 
tells Jung his dreams, 465; 
Jung and Freud analyze each 
other's, 232W, 432; Jung dis- 
agrees with Freud on, 41-42, 
44, 7 J > 458; Jung interprets 
his own, 181-82, 232-34; 
Jung's analysis of, 40, 54, 
71-72; Jung's dreams influ- 
ence his career, 457; of man 
with serpent feet, 147, 148; 



474 



Index 



myths related to, 44; para- 
psychological phenomena in, 
182; telepathic, 80; in therapy, 
319, 321-23; unconscious in, 
319-20, 341; waking, 231-33; 
as warningj>f_future, 49 

drugs7~a33ictive lihd habit- 
forming, 334-35; tranquil- 
lizers, 334-35 

Duplain, Georges, i44«; inter- 
view with Jung, 410-23 

earth, love of, 266-67 

earthquakes, Japanese legend 
of, 86 

Easter, 354, 358 

Eastern behavior, Western 
compared with, 264-65 

Eastern philosophy, 262-63; 
see also India 

Eckhart, Meister, 468 

Edinger, Edward F., 25, 95» 

education: as protection against 
neuroses, 44; for second half 
of life, 445-46, 450 

ego, 285; of children, 285, 467; 
and mandala, 328; second, 
search for, 41-43; self and 
persona distinguished from, 
298-99 

Egypt: African mentality in, 
142; Christ myth influenced 
by Egyptian culture, 371-72; 
Heb-Sed festival, 371-72; 
royal incest in, 290, 403 

Einstein, Albert, 326, 380 

Eisenhower, Dwight D., 444 

Eissler, K. R., xi« 

Elgon, Mount, 33, 34, 353 

Elgon caves, 36 

Eliade, Mircea, xv; interview 
with Jung, 225-34 

Elijah, 235-36, 387 

Ellmann, Richard, 240ft 

energy: and power manifesta- 
tion, 316-17; use of, 69-70 

England: colonial empire, 132, 



137; and Czechoslovakia, 
!33-34, 136; English charac- 
ter, 21, 91, 93, 154; English 
emotional behavior, 264-65; 
and Poland, 136; psychologi- 
cal stability, 123 

enlightenment, 441 

entropy, 316 

environment: influence on 
personality, 302, 303, 337; 
and regional planning, 201-4 

Eranos Conference: 1942, 141; 
1952, 225; 1953, 205 

eras, zodiacal, 375, 412-13, 444 

Erasmus, Desiderius, 164 

Erikson, Erik, 276 

Eskimos, 383, 458 

Eucharist, non-Christian paral- 
lels of, 220 

Europe: Jung's waking dreams 
foretell disaster in, 232-33; 
psychological stability, geo- 
graphical distribution, 123 

Evans, Richard I., xi, xii; film 
interviews with Jung 
(Houston films), 276-352 

evil, concept of, 436 

extrasensory perception (ESP), 
312-15; in dreams, 183 

extraversion/extraverts, 212, 
302-6, 341-42; intuition in 
extraverts and introverts, 
309-11, 313; sensation in 
extraverts and introverts, 
311—13; speech of extraverts, 
26; spelling of word, 213 

fantasy, 40; creative imagination 
in, 338-39; and facts, 302-3; 
in schizophrenia, 338-39; and 
subconscious, 42, 44, 45 

Fascism, 92, 126; see also 
Mussolini, Benito 

father: animus as prototype of, 
27; spirit of, as influence, 
383-85; in transference, 
344-46, 363 



475 



Index 



fat words, 367, 369 

fear, 27-28, 144; and morality, 
28 

Fechner, Gustav Theodor, 457 

Fierz, H. E., 183, 184 

Fischer, Emil A., interview with 
Jung, 164-67 

fish, symbolism, 412-13 

Fitzgerald, F. Scott, xv, i86«; 
Tender Is the Night, 186-87 

Fitzgerald, Zelda, i86w 

Flournoy, Theodore, 338-39 

flying saucers (Ufos), 410-12, 
414; belief in, 390-91; Lind- 
bergh's discussion with Jung 
on, 406-9; seeing, reports of, 
389-90, 407; U.S. Air Force 
investigations of, 407-8 

Foley, Martha, 47 

Foote, Mary, xvii 

Fordham, Michael, xviii; 
Contact with Jung, 156 

Fordham University, Jung's 
lectures, 11 

Forel, Oscar, i86w 

France: colonies, 132, 137; and 
Czechoslovakia, 133-34, 136; 
French do not understand 
Jung, 271; psychological sta- 
bility, 123; third parties in 
marriage, 403 

Franz, Marie-Louise von, 277, 
360 n 

free decision, 362 

Freeman, John, xi; "Face to 
Face," BBC television inter- 
view with Jung, 424-39 

Freud, Sigmund, 38M, 60, 64, 
100, 143, 197, 198, 207, 209, 
218, 231, 232, 417, 455; at 
Clark University, n; dissatis- 
faction with his work, 265; 
Freudian psychology, begin- 
ning of, 252-53; The Inter- 
pretation of Dreams, 208, 277, 
278, 430; Jung and Freud 
analyze each other's dreams, 



232«, 432; Jung's association 
with, 277-81; Jung's break 
with, 254, 261, 268, 339, 431, 
433; Jung's discussion of, in 
Houston film interview, 
277-85, 288-92, 302, 316, 323, 

34i, 343, 344, 345; Jung's 
meeting with, 208-9??, 253-54, 
259-60, 430-31; Jung's state- 
ments on, 38-39, 41-42, 44, 
208, 268-69, 431-33. 458; 
Jung's "Theory of Psycho- 
analysis" as critique of, 11; 
Jung will not publish their 
correspondence, 432-33; per- 
sonality, 260, 268-69; 
personality type doubtful, 
257; psychoanalysis compared 
with Jung's, 12-13, 39-42, 
44; sexuality in his psycho- 
analysis, 39, 44, 71, 279-81; 
unconscious, concept, 269, 
282-84, 339 

friendship, 31 

future, Jung's ideas on, 2,0 
173-74, 374, 413-M, 421-23, 
436, 438-39 

Galileo Galilei, 147 
gana (libido volition), 105 
Gazette de Lausanne, 410 
Geibel, Emanuel, I'ji-'jin 
Gemini, era of, 412 
genius, psychology of, 164-65 
Germany: "Am deutschen 
Wesen soil die Welt genesen," 
151-5277; Hitler's dictator- 
ship, see Hitler, Adolf; 
inferiority complex, 118, 122, 
123, 137, 151; Jung as Nazi 
and anti-Semite, controversy 
on, 192-200; Jung predicts 
rise of Nazis, 300; Jung's 
attitude toward, 59-66, 92-93, 
169-70, 178-79, 189, 222; 
leadership in, 65-66; national 
character, "Sleepy Michael," 



476 



Index 



123; nationalism, 61; Nazi 
purge (1934), 184; Nazi 
psychology after 2nd World 
War, 149-50, 152; Nazi 
symbolism, 11 7-1 8; Nazis 
and Jewish psychologists, 59; 
Nazis oppose religion, 
123-24; postwar psychic 
problems, 149-55; psychology 
in, 63-66; sentimentality and 
"Gemiitlichkeit," 152; Third 
Reich, 117-18; women's posi- 
tion in, 300-1; in 2nd World 
War, 147-48; youth, 61-62 

Gerster, Georg, xi, xiii, 406; 
interviews with Jung, 
353-58, 453-61 

Ghirlandaio, 147 

ghosts, 376-77, 383 

Gnosticism, 54, 147; archetypes 
in, 350; symbols on Jung's 
ring, 468 

God, 31, 249-51; belief in, in old 
age, 448-49; and Christ, 
97-98; as circle, 216; as good 
and love or hate and evil, 
170; Jung's belief in, 419-20, 
427-28; mercy and justice, 
160; in Middle Ages, 69, 73; 
in modern world, 72, 74-75; 
name of, used, 454; personal, 
or divine impersonal prin- 
ciple, 388-89; and self, 327; 
see also Yahweh 

god: as archetype, 346-47; slain 
and eaten, 220 

Goebbels, Joseph Paul, 152 

Goethe, Johann Wolfgang von, 
152, 270, 391, 421; legend of 
Jung's descent from, 271 

Golden Age, 43-44, 46 

Golden Thread, 31 

Gomez de la Serna, Ramon, 82 

Goring, M. H., 198, 199 

gospels, Jung's comments on, 
367-68 

go with the wind, 144, 418 



greasy pole, 354 

Great Old Man/Great Man/ 

2,000,000-year-old man, 71, 

72, 74, 85-86, 89, 359-64 
Greek civilization, 43 
Green Pastures (Connelly), 101 
Guild of Pastoral Psychology, 

159W 
guilt, 157; of Germans after 

2nd World War, 150, 153-54 

Haggard, H. Rider, She, 296 
Hammurabi, 373 
Hannah, Barbara, xii, 6o«, 277 
happiness: factors in, 450-51; 

and sadness, 451-52; and 

values, 263 
Harding, M. Esther, xvi, 94, 

171; from her notebooks, on 

Jung, 25-31, 180-85, 3 6 7-69, 

440-42 
Harms, Ernest, 59*1, 193, 197-98 
Hartmann, Eduard von, 207, 

253 
Harvard University, Jung at 

symposium, 88 
haunted houses, 185, 383 
Hearst's International-Cosmo- 
politan, 67, 115, 140/j 
Henderson, Joseph, 276 
Hermetic Circle, 464 
Hermetic philosophy, 351 
hero myths, 55, 293 
Hesse, Hermann, 219, 405, 

463-66, 468 
highbrows (intellectuals), 

443, 444, 452 

Hillyer, Robert, articles in 
Saturday Review of Litera- 
ture, on Jung, 192 

Hindus, see India 

His, Wilhelm, 5-6 

Hislop, Francis Daniel, xv; on 
Jung in Africa, 32-37 

Hitler, Adolf, 64, 91, 93, 115-35, 
136-40, 437; Czechoslovakia 
seized, 120-21; German 



477 



Index 



people's attitude toward, 
125-26, 137-38; as hero, not 
father symbol, 301; Hitler- 
Stalin pact, 180-81; Hitlerism 
as new religion, 123-24; 
Jung's dream of, 181-82; 
Jung's early statements on, 
196-97; marriage, possibility 
of, 128-29; as medicine man, 
93, 115, 117, 126, 137; Musso- 
lini compared with, 1 15-17, 
124-29, 137-38; with Musso- 
lini in Berlin, 126-28; as 
psychic phenomenon, 351; 
secret of his power, 118-20; 
should oppose Russia, 132-33; 
Stalin compared with, 115-17, 
124, 129; Voice (uncon- 
scious), 1 19-21, 132, 139 

Hodin, J. P>, xv ; interview with 
Jung, 219-24 

Hogle, George H., xvi; visit 
with Jung, 168-70 

Holmberg, Uno, 354 

homosexuality, 152, 403 

Horine, Ruth, xviii, 58, 167, 
204, 272 

horoscopes, 462 

horse, as symbol, 86 

Horus, 420 

Houston (Texas), University 
of, film interviews with Jung, 
xii, 276-352 

Huitzilopochtli, 220 

Hull, R.F.C., xii, xvii, xviii, 
234, 276/1 

Humboldt, Alexander von, 5 

hunches, 307-10, 313 

Hutchins, Patricia, xv; 
interview with Jung, 239-43 

Huxley, Aldous, 84 

hydrogen bombs, threat of, 267 

hysteria and schizophrenia, 
338-39 



/ Ching, 182, 462 

Id, Freud's concept, 284, 285 



imagination: active, 236; 

creative, in fantasy, 339 
Immaculate Conception, dogma 

of, 373 

immortality, 375-79, 382; 
hope for, 448-49 

incest, 213, 403; laws and 
customs against, 290-91; and 
Oedipus complex, 289-90 

India: birth control, 374-75; 
circumambulation rites, 147; 
epidemic diseases, 374; Jung 
in, xiii, 142, 176, 242, 262, 
392, 393, 396-99, 417, 420, 
441; living according to one's 
nature in, 463, 464; no 
neuroses in, 464; philosophy, 
392-401, 441; population 
problems, 374-75; serpent 
symbolism in, 322; trans- 
migration, belief in, 382 

Indians, American, 15-16; Jung 
visits Pueblo people, xivn, 
30, 40, 44, 77, 113, 262, 
399-400; Naskapi, Great Man 
concept, 360, 363 

individual, importance of, 
460-61 

individuation, 214, 324; therapy 
of, 210-11 

inferior function, 25 

inferiority complex, 257; 
Adler's idea of, 269; German, 
118, 122, 123, 137, 151; 
Jewish, 122 

insomnia, 144, 417-19 

instincts, 284-85, 415; in 
emergencies, 455-56 

integration of opposites, 227, 
228 

intellectuals, 443, 444, 452 

International Congress for 
Psychotherapy, 1954, Jung 
honored, 238 

International Medical Congress 
for Psychotherapy, Oxford, 
1938, questions and answers, 
99-114 



478 



Index 



International Medical Society 
for Psychotherapy, Jung as 
president, 59, 99, 197-99 

introversion/introverts, 302-6, 
341-42; Adler as introvert, 
257; intuition in extraverts 
and introverts, 309-11, 313; 
Jung as introvert, 256; mean- 
ing of, 212; sensation in 
extraverts and introverts, 
311-13; speech of introverts, 
26 

intuition, 341-42; in extraverts 
and introverts, 309-11, 313; 
and perception, 306-9, 313 

Italy: African colonies, 132; 
Italian emotional behavior, 
265; Mussolini's dictatorship, 
see Mussolini, Benito 

Jacobi, Jolande, xii, 38, 148, 441 

Jaffe, Aniela, xviii, 59/j, 27672, 
277, 401, 406 

James, William, 221, 271, 339 

Janet, Pierre, 39*, 283, 417 

Jantz, Hubert, 38 m 

Japanese belief about center of 
person, 400 

Japanese legend of earthquakes, 
86 

jazz, 43, 249 

Jerome, St., 368 

Jesuits, 236, 387 

Jews: inferiority complex, 122; 
Italian persecution of, 126; 
Jung's attitude toward, 
IQ 3-95> IQ 7, 271; Messiah, 
122, 138; Nazi persecution of 
psychologists, 59 

Job, 225-27, 230-31 

Johannes Parricida, 213, 293 

John of the Cross, St., 235 

Jones, Ernest, 38^, 276 

Joyce, James, 219, 221; 
Finnegans Wake, 241-42; 
Hutchins's interviews with 
Jung on, 239-43; Jung's letter 
to, 242*1; Ulysses, 240, 241 



Joyce, Lucia, 240, 241 

Jung, C. G., Institute, Zurich, 
171, 173; Jung's talk with 
students, 359-64 

Jung, Carl Gustav: 

Biographical and personal: 
in Africa, 32-37, 4°, 44, 
79-80, 142, 176, 262, 294, 
353-54, 417, 419-20; archi- 
tecture and building, interest 
in, 266; art, taste in, 147; at 
Bollingen retreat, 50-51, 
162-63, r 68-7o, 183, 406, 409; 
childhood, 3-5, 425-27; 
children and descendants, 
266, 425; death, 453, 469; 
education and university life, 
6-9, 428-29; eightieth birth- 
day, 161-62, 268; eighty-fifth 
birthday, 443, 453; family 
history, 5-6; and Freud, see 
Freud, Sigmund; gardening 
and outdoor life, 266-67; 
illness, 146, 172, 173, 466; in 
India, xii, 142, 176, 242, 262, 

392, 393, 396-99> 417, 420, 
441; in International Medical 
Society for Psychotherapy, 
59, 99, 197-99; at Kiisnacht, 
51-52, 141-45, 146-47, 
424-25; lake steamers salute 
him, 238, 365; lectures at 
ETH, 83" ; mathematics, 
dislike of, 4-5, 81; music, atti- 
tude toward, 273-75; as Nazi 
and anti-Semite, controversy 
on, 192-200; and Nazi Ger- 
many, see Germany; in old 
age, 161-62, 172-73, 180, 235, 
258, 365-66, 393, 405; on 
planting trees, 161-62; with 
Pueblo Indians, xivw, 30, 40, 
44, 73, 113, 262, 399-400; 
reads detective stories, 83; 
satisfaction with his work, 
265; on success of his books, 
395-96, 416, 444; Swahili, 
knowledge of, 35, 165; Swiss 



479 



Index 



background of his philosophy, 
261; in U.S., xiv, 11, 30-31, 
44, 88, 94, 434 

Interviews and contacts 
with: Allenby, 156-59; 
Baudouin, 76-81, 146-48, 
2 35~36, 365-66; C. Baumann, 
192-200; Bertine, 171-79; 
Black, BBC, 252-67; Brand, 
161-62; Carol, 201-4; 
Courthion, 141-45; Duplain, 
410-23; Eliade, 225-34; 
Evans, 276-352; Fischer, 
164-67; Freeman, BBC, 424- 
39; Gerster, 353-58, 453-61; 
Harding, 25-31, 180-85, 
367-69, 440-42; Hodin, 
219-24; Hogle, 168-70; 
Houston (Texas) University 
films, 276-7352; Hutchins, 
239-43; Knickerbocker, 
115-35, 136; Lambert, 159- 
61; Lindbergh, 406-9; 
Moravia, 186-89; Ocampo, 
82-84; Osterman, 162-63; 
Owens, 237-38; Philp, 136- 
40; Progoff, 205-18; Sands, 
244-51; Schabad, 268-72; 
Schmid, 149-55; Sergeant, 
50-56; Serrano, 392-405, 
462-69; Tilly, 273-75; G - 
Young, 443-52 

Works: Aion, 17322, 176, 
208, 225, 22672, 298ft, 41222; 
Analytical Psychology: Its 
Theory and Practice, 85; 
"Analytical Psychology and 
Education," 46522; "Answer 
to Job," 227/2, 36722, 440; 
Antwort auf Hiob, 22572, 
226-27; "Archaic Man," 35422, 
357«; Archetypes and the 
Collective Unconscious, 
404-5; "An Astrological 
Experiment," 31522; "Basic 
Postulates of Analytical Psy- 
chology," 47; Collected 



Works, 271; "The Complica- 
tions of American Psychol- 
ogy/' 1 3 n '> "The Concept of 
the Collective Unconscious," 
94, 43522; "Concerning Man- 
dala Symbolism," 32722; The 
Development oj Personality, 
25022; "Dream Symbols of the 
Individuation Process," 87, 
94; "Flying Saucers: A Mod- 
ern Myth," 30022, 32722, 38922, 
40622, 410, 41222; The Freud/ 
Jung Letters, 1322, 3822, 20922, 
26822, 271, 43122, 43322, 43422; 
"Further Investigations on 
the Galvanic Phenomenon 
and Respiration in Normal 
and Insane Persons," 33122; 
"Der Geist der Psychologie," 
213, 216; "The Gifted Child," 
42922; "The Holy Men of 
India," 39222, 39822; L'Homme 
a la decouverte de son dme, 
416; "Instinct and the Un- 
conscious," 41522; The Inte- 
gration oj Personality, Sjn; 
The Interpretation of Nature 
and the Psyche, with Pauli, 
32522; Interpretation oj 
Visions, 5022; Letters, 18322, 
24222, 24322, 40522, 424, 46222; 
"Man and Earth," 19522; "The 
Meaning of Psychology for 
Modern Man," 39122; Memo- 
ries, Dreams, Reflections, 32, 
23222, 26922, 27122, 31122, 33022, 
34922, 35022, 38522, 39622, 40022, 
41322, 43022, 43122, 46522; 
"Mind and Earth," 1322, 23222; 
Mysterium Coniunctionis, 
17322, 21622, 219, 37222; "On 
Psychic Energy," 31622; "On 
the Importance of the Uncon- 
scious in Psychopathology," 
23322; "On the Nature of the 
Psyche," 47, 21322, 29222, 41522; 
"On the Psychological Diag- 
nosis of Evidence," 8722; "On 



480 



Index 



the Psychology and Pathology 
of So-Called Occult Phe- 
nomena," 6, 26022; "Paracelsus 
as a Spiritual Phenomenon," 
22722; "The Philosophical 
Tree," 357«; The Psycho- 
genesis of Mental Disease, 
27822; "A Psychological 
Approach to the Dogma of 
the Trinity," 15622, 18722; 
"Psychological Factors Deter- 
mining Human Behaviour," 
8822; Psychological Types, 82, 
84, 21622, 341; "A Psychologi- 
cal View of Conscience," 
29122, 36122; Psychology and 
Alchemy, 8722, 227, 32222; 
"Psychology and National 
Problems," 91; "Psychology 
and Religion," 29621, 31822, 
45623; "The Psychology 
of Dementia Praecox," 260, 
333"> 43 1 "'. "The Psychology 
of the Transference," 20822, 
213, 29122, 34422; Psychology 
oj the Unconscious, 55, 56, 
r 73. 177. 2 54, 261, 322, 339, 
433; "Psychophysical Investi- 
gations with the Galvanome- 
ter and Pneumograph in 
Normal and Insane Individ- 
uals," 33022; "Psychotherapy 
Today," 199-200; "A Radio 
Talk in Munich," 10222; "The 
Realities of Practical Psycho- 
therapy," 39922; "Das Reich 
des Unbewussten," 3822; 
"Report on America," 1322; 
"A Review of the Complex 
Theory," 19822; "The Role of 
the Unconscious," 30022; 
Seven Sermons to the Dead, 
46522; "Some Thoughts on 
Psychology," 8; "The Spirit 
Mercurius," 141, 35522; "The 
State of Psychotherapy 
Today," 19322; "The Structure 
of the Psyche," 4122; "The 



Structure of the Unconscious 
("La Structure de l'incon- 
scient"), 34022; "Die Struktur 
der Seele," 4022; "Studies in 
Word Association," 27822; 
"The Symbolic Life," xii, 
34922; Symboli\ des Geistes, 
187-88; Symbols of Trans- 
formation (Symbole der 
Wandlung), 17322, 26122, 
32222, 339, 37322, 41222, 43322; 
"Synchronic! ty: An Acausal 
Connecting Principle," 18222, 
225, 23022, 31422, 39122; "The 
Tavistock Lectures," xii, 7622, 
85, 32622, 33022; "The Theory 
of Psychoanalysis," 11, 1322, 
317ns "The Transcendent 
Function," 32522; "Transfor- 
mation Symbolism in the 
Mass," 22022; Two Essays on 
Analytical Psychology, 21322, 
29422, 29722, 30222, 34122, 34222, 
34522; "Ulysses: A Mono- 
logue," 24022; "The Visions 
of Zosimos," 18022; The 
Visions Seminars, 5022; Wand- 
lungen und Symbole der 
Libido, 5522, 17322, 26122, 43322; 
Wir\lich\eit der Seele, 80; 
"Wotan," 196-97, 46222; 
"Zuriick zum Urweltgliick!" 
4322 

Jung, Carl Gustav, Senior, 
grandfather of C. G. Jung, 
5-6, 271 

Jung, Emilie Preiswerk, mother 
of C. G. Jung, 6, 7, 426-27 

Jung, Emma (Mrs. C. G. Jung), 
147, 169, 174, 179, 252, 27422, 
365; Jung's first meeting with 
her, 266 

Jung, Ernst, 222 

Jung, Mr. and Mrs. Franz, xviii 

Jung, Paul, father of C. G. Jung, 
3-7, 160, 417, 426-27, 466 

kaivalya, 394 



481 



Index 



Kanchenjunga, Mount, 420 
Kant, Immanuel, 207, 259, 

388, 431 
Kenya, 32, 37 
Keyhoe, Maj. Donald E., 

407-8 
Keyserling, Count Hermann, 

xiv, 40M, 82, 105M 
Khrushchev, Nikita, 444 
Kimber, Rita and Robert, xviii, 

204 
Kingdom of Heaven, 31; is 

within you, 72, 74 
Kirsch, Hilde, 59 
Kirsch, James, 59 
Kitchin, Derek, xii, 99 
Klee, Paul, 221 
Knickerbocker, H. R., xiii; 

interview with Jung, 115-35, 

136 
Kokoschka, Oskar, 221 n 
Kotschnig, Elined Prys, xviii, 81 
Kraepelin, Emil, 277 
Krafft-Ebing, Richard von, 

209, 259 
Krishnamurti, 404 
Kiichler, Field Marshal Georg 

von, 149-50 
Kuhn, Hans, 32 
Kulturbund, Vienna, xii, 38, 40, 

47.57 
Kundalini serpent, 322, 400 
Kiisnacht, 51-52, 83, 141-45, 

146-47, 161, 252, 424-25; 

inscription, Vocatus atque 

non vocatus aderit, 164, 258, 

453-54 

Laing, R. D., 276 

Lambert, Kenneth, xvi; contact 

with Jung, 159-61 
Lawrence, D. H., 403 
leadership, 65 

Lenin, Nikolai, 116, 125, 131 
levitation in brain injury, 381 
Levy-Bruhl, Lucien, 214, 215 
Lewin, Kurt, 317 
libido: of Americans, 19, 20; 



exteriorized, 184; Freud's 

concept, 279, 316; loss of, 105 
lie detector, 330 
lightning, horse associated with, 

86 
Lindbergh, Anne Morrow, 

406, 409 
Lindbergh, Charles, xv; visit 

with Jung, 406-9 
Living Age, The, 91 
Logos, 27, 75 
Lord's Prayer, 368 
Lotschental, 142 

McCormick, Edith Rockefeller, 

240 
McCormick, Fowler, xiii, xiv 
McGuire, William, 276M 
MacShane, Frank, xviii, 392 
magic, 142, 143, 178 
Maharshi, Shri Ramana, 398-99 
man, as man's worst enemy, 248 
mandala, 327-28, 361; in 

Tibetan monastery, 442 
Mann, Kristine, 30« 
marriage: American, 14, 19-24; 
Eastern and Western behav- 
ior in, 264-65; extraversion 
and introversion in, 305-6, 
312; and falling in love, 294; 
happiness in, 451-52; and 
incest rules, 290-91; male and 
female roles in, 244-47, 
402-3; mystic wedding, 405; 
polygamy, 403; tension in, 

247 
Marshall Plan, 176 
Mary, Virgin, 230, 236, 440-41; 

Assumption, 271, 367, 403; 

Immaculate Conception, 373; 

incorruptible body, 387-88 
mathematics, 325-26; Jung 

dislikes, 4-5, 81 
Maugham, W. Somerset, 

398-99«, 399 
May-pole/May-tree, 354 
Meaney, John, 276 
medicine: and psychology, 



482 



Index 



86-87, I0I > 20 9> 2 53> 2 58-59; 
psychosomatic, 331-33 
Meier, C. A., 184s 
men: American, 14, 19-24; as 
analysts, adaptation to 
women's animus, 26-27, see 
also animus/anima; beauty 
and brains, 248; critical 
periods of life, 457; fear and 
vanity, 244-45; in love and 
marriage, 244-47, 402-3 
Messiah, 122, 123, 138 
metempsychosis, 382-83 
middle age, see second half of 

life 
Middle Ages, 95; religion in, 

68-69, 73 
Milford, Nancy, Zelda: A 

Biography, i86» 
mind, immortality of, 85-87 
Mirabal, Antonio, see Ochwiay 

Biano 
mistrust of feelings, 157-58 
Mithras Liturgy, 434 - 35 
modern life: crisis in, 459-61; 
distractions in, 248-49; 
dreams and visions in, 459; 
God in, 72, 74, 75 
Modern Thinner, The, 67 
Mohammedanism, 124 
money, inflation and devalua- 
tion, 92 
morality: and consciousness, 29; 

and fear, 28 
Moravia, Alberto, xv; visit with 

Jung, 186-89 
mother in transference, 344~45 
motivation, 315-18 
Mountain Lake, 399-400 
Mucke, Helmuth von, Ayesha, 

234" 
Muller, Friedrich von, 209» 
music: as distraction, 249; as 

therapy, 273-75 
Mussolini, Benito, 91, 93; Hitler 
compared with, 115-17, 
124-29, 137-38; with Hitler 
in Berlin, 126-28; Italian 



people's attitude toward, 
125-26; Jews persecuted by, 
126; Stalin compared with, 
1 1 5-16, 129 
myths: archetypes in, 289, 293, 
348; dreams related to, 44, 
370-73; hero myth, 55, 293; 
trees in, 354-55 

Napoleon, 151 
Naskapi Indians, 360, 363 
nation as blind monster, 134-35 
National-Zeitung (Basel), 268 
nationalism, German, 61 
nature: living according to 
one's own, 463; living with, 
163 r;o tj<- 

Nazi movement after 2nd 
World War, 445; see also 
Germany; Hitler, Adolf 
Nebuchadnezzar, 355 
needs, satisfaction of, 384-85 
Negroes: in American culture, 
195; dances, American craze 
for, 43; schizophrenic, Jung's 
study of, 434; Southerners 
influenced by, 14, 16 
Neumann, Erich, 197, 37271 
neuroses, 49, 90; and art, 222; 
causes of, 317-18; Jung dis- 
agrees with Freud on, 44-45; 
Jung's therapy for, 318-22; 
none in India or Southeast 
Asia, 464; in second half of 
life, 106-8; suicide related 
to, 45 
New York: Jung in, 30, 94-95; 
Jung's informal talk, 94-98; 
Jung's lecture on collective 
unconscious, 94-95; Jung's 
seminar, "Dream Symbols of 
the Individuation Process," 94 
New York State, mental illness 

in, 47-48 
New Yor\ Times, The, xiii; 
interviews with Jung, 11-24, 
88-90 



483 



I 



Index 



Index 



Niehus-Jung, Marianne, 274, 

275« 
Nietzsche, Friedrich Wilhelm, 

106, 207-8, 280, 281, 417, 457 
Nile, 32, 142 
Nozick, Martin, xviii, 84 
numinous experience, 230, 455 

Observer (London), interviews 

with Jung, 85-87, 91-93 
Ocampo, Victoria, xiv; visit 

with Jung, 82-84 
Ochwiay Biano, chief, 399-400 
Oedipus complex, 288-90, 292 
Oeri, Albert, xvi, 388; memories 

of Jung, 3-10 
old age, see second half of life 
old man, see Great Old Man 
oligarchy, 92, 93 
Osiris, 371, '372 
Osterman, Elizabeth, xvi; 

contact with Jung, 162-63 
Otto, Rudolf, 230 
Owens, Claire Myers, visit with 

Jung, 237-38 
Oxford, see International 

Medical Congress for 

Psychotherapy 
Oxford University, ggn 

palaeontology, 209 

Palm Sunday, 367-68, 440 

Pan, 148 

"Pan is dead," 97 

Pantheism, 170 

Paracelsus, 39, 142, 365 

parapsychology, 182-83, 466 

Parsons, Richard, Bishop of 

Southwark, 1597* 
participation mystique, 214-16 
past, connection with, 348-49 
Paul, St., 28 
Pauli, Wolfgang, 325 
peptic ulcer, 33 T -3 2 
perception and intuition, 

30^-9. 313 
persona, 297-98; lack of, in 



Asia, 464; meaning of word, 
210 

Pfister, Oskar, 238/* 

phallic symbols, 324 

philosophers' stone, 227, 228 

philosophy: Eastern, compared 
with Jung's, 262-63; in India, 
392-401; Jung's basic prin- 
ciples, 414-21; in Jung's 
psychology, 206-7 

Philp, Howard L., xiv; inter- 
view with Jung, 136-40 

physics, 325 

Piaget, Jean, 276 

Picasso, Pablo, 219, 221 

Picinello, Phillipus, Mundus 
Symbolicus, 235 

Pisces, era of, 375, 412, 444 

Pius II, Pope, 217 

Pius IX, Pope, 373 

Pius XII, Pope, 3730, 413, 423 

Plato, 412 

Plutarch, 97» 

pneumograph, 331 

Poetry magazine, The Case 
Against "The Saturday 
Review of Literature," 192 

Poland, English guarantee to, 
136 

poor white trash, American and 
European, 122-23 

Pound, Ezra, 192 

power complex/power drive, 
280-82, 316-17 

Pratt, Jane A., xviii, 145, 148, 
236, 3 66 , 410, 423; Jung's 
talk edited by, 94-98 

predestination, dual, and 
synchronicity, 386-87 

Preiswerk, Samuel, grandfather 
of Jung, 6 

primitive people: and Christian- 
ity, 112-13; dreams of chief 
or shaman, 458; ego, 285; 
food more important than 
sexuality, 279-80; psychology, 
102-5, 360 



Progoff, Ira, xvi; Jung reviews 
his thesis, 205-18 

projection, 323, 345, 363 

projective tests, 328-30 

Protestantism, 217, 271 

psyche: as danger to mankind, 
303-4; in emergencies, 456; 
subjective factor and environ- 
mental influence, 302-3 

psychic causation, 99-100 

psychic development, 324-25 

psychoanalysis: Freud's and 
Jung's techniques compared, 
12-13, 39~4 2 > 44! German 
attack on, 60; tradition of, 
218; see also analysis .-:■■'• 
(Jungian) 

psychogalvanic phenomenon', 

330-31 

Psychological Club, Zurich: 
Jung's seminars, 52-55; Die 
\ulturelle Bedeutung der 
\omplexen Psychologie 
{Festschrift for Jung's sixtieth 
birthday), yi 

Psychologist, The, 136 

psychology: analytical, as reli- 
gion, 94-98; competitive, 
Jung defends, 220-21; 
Freudian, Adlerian, and 
Jungian, beginning of, 
252-53; in Germany, 63-66; 
Jung answers his critics, 270; 
Jung's first interest in, 209-10, 
212, 258-59, 430; Jung's 
studies and development of 
his ideas, 336-43; and medi- 
cine, 86-87, I0I > 20 9> 2 53> 
258-59; reasons for attraction 
to, 166; reconciliation of 
various schools of, 254-55; as 
science of psychic phenomena, 
262; training and background 
of psychologist, 335-36 

Psychology Club, Basel, Jung's 
"seminar" with, 370-71 

psychosexual development, 
286-88 



psychosomatic medicine, 331-33 
psychotherapy, see therapy 
Pueblo Indians, xiv», 30, 40, 

44, 77, 113, 262, 399-400 
purusha, 394 

quadratura circuli, 327, 421 
Quaker, Jung's story of, 158, 161 
Quakers: interested in Jungian 
. psychology, 168; Jung's 

comment on, 169 
quantum theory, 380 
Quaternity, 188-89, 4 2I » 4 22 
Queen of Sheba, 402, 403 

Radio Berlin, Jung's interview, 

59-66 
Ramana Maharshi, Shri, 

398-99 

Rank, Otto, 279, 286 

Rasmussen, Knud, 458 

rationalists, 378, 384 

Ravenna mosaics, Jung's 
hallucination of, 184-85 

Read, Herbert, xviii 

rebirth, 382-83 

recurrences, strange, 250 

red and white, symbolism, 
326-27, 421-22 

redeemer, concept of, 436-37, 
468 

Reformation in Switzerland, 
217 

regional planning, 201-4 

related ness, 31 

relationships, 31 

religion, 40, 45; analytical 
psychology as, 94-98; disin- 
tegration of, 68; God and 
Christ in, 97-98; Jung's 
interest in, 229-30; meaning 
in concept of, 454-55; in Mid- 
dle Ages, 68-69; psychological 
truth in, 72; religious expe- 
rience as psychological 
experience, 10-14, 22 9-3o; 
see also Christ; Christianity; 
God 



484 



485 



F 



Index 



Renaissance, 43 

representation collective, 214, 
215 

repression: and unconscious, 
283, 323-24; in word asso- 
ciation, 278 

Ress, Lisa, xviii, 10 

Rhine, J. B., 312-15, 377-78 

Rigi, Jung's holiday on, 174-79 

rites d' entree I rites de sortie, 
103, 104 

Ritschl, Albert, 8 

Rochedieu, E., 235 

Roman civilization, 43; 
Augustan Age, 373 

Roman religion, 97 

Roosevelt, Franklin D.: in 
Jung's dream, 183; Jung's 
estimate of, 88, 91-93 

Roosevelt, Theodore, 52 

Rorschach, Hermann, 329 

Rorschach test, 329-30 

Round, the, 223 

Rousseau, Jean Jacques, 43 

Russia (Soviet Union), 48, 93; 
agricultural failures, 463; 
Communist Party, 92; hero- 
worship in, 437; Hitler 
should oppose, 132-33; Jung's 
opinions on, 169, 176, 
181-82, 222, 303, 349, 463; as 
patriarchy, 327; Quakers' 
approach to, 169; red star as 
symbol, 326-27, 421; Stalin's 
dictatorship, see Stalin, 
Joseph; standard of living, 
130 

Saint-Exupery, Antoine de, 403 

Salpetriere, 283 

samadhi, 392, 394 

Sands, Frederick, xiii; inter- 
views with Jung, 244-51 

Sankhya philosophy, 394 

Satan, 226-27, 229, 230-31 

Saturday Review of Literature, 
Jung's reply to controversial 
articles, 192-200 



Sauerlander, Beata, 189 

scapegoat, 345 

Schabad, Michael, interview 
with Jung, 268-72 

Scheuchzer, Johann Jakob, 460 

Schiller, Johann Christoph 
Friedrich von, 43 

schizophrenia: and art, 222; 
drugs in treatment, 335; 
Joyce's works resemble, 241; 
Jung fears he may have, 
2 33~34; Jung' s study of, 
337-38, 433-34; shock treat- 
ment, 318; toxic aspect, 333 

Schlegel, Eugen, i79» 

Schmid, Karl, 422 

Schmid, Marie-Jeanne, 174 

Schmid, Peter, interview with 
Jung, 149-55 

Schmidt, Harold von, 67 

Schopenhauer, Arthur, 207, 218, 
259, 286, 417 

science, Jung's attitude toward, 
223-24, 287 

second half of life, 446-48; 
education for, 445-46, 450; 
goals in, 106-7; neuroses in, 
106-8; objectivity in, 108, 
no; retirement in, 445; self- 
knowledge in, 447-48; subli- 
mation in, 108-10 

self, 414; as archetype of indi- 
vidual, 216; barriers of, 28; 
Christ as, 401; as circle, 401; 
ego and persona distinguished 
from, 298-99; and fear, 
27-28; and God, 327; Jung's 
first consciousness of himself, 
425-26; and mandala, 328; 
self-regulating, 28; separated 
from demons, 27; as spirit, 
31; and unconscious, 301 

self-doubt, 157-58 

self-preservation and preserva- 
tion of species, 257 

sensation in extraverts and 
introverts, 311-13 

Sergeant, Elizabeth Shepley, 



Index 



486 



xiii, 115, 140*2; memoir of 
Jung, 50-56 

serpent: in abdomen of patient, 
309-10, 322-23, 324; biting its 
tail, see Uroboros; symbol- 
ism, 322 

Serrano, Miguel, xv; talks with 
Jung, 39 2 -4°5 ; 462-69 

sex complex, 257 

sexuality: food more important 
than, 279-80, 286-87; m 
Freud's psychoanalysis, 39, 44, 
71, 279-81; Jung disagrees 
with Freud on, 41, 44, 71, 
279-80, 316, 403; Lawrence's 
interpretation of, 403; as 
relationship, 31; repressed, 
liberation from, 281 

shadow, 158, 160, 161, 228; 
of Christ, 440 

shaman: Eskimo, guided by 
dreams, 458; projection of, 

363 
shamanism, trees in, 356 

Shiva, cult of, 147 

shock as cure, 317-18 

Silber, Hilde, 59 

simplicity, need for, 49 

Skinner, B. F., 276 

Socialism, 92 

sorcery and magic, contem- 
porary, 142 

soul/souls: Chinese beliefs on, 
143; two, 57-58; young and 
old, 29 

South Africa, Dutch in, 15 

Soviet Union, see Russia 

Spaatz, General Carl, 408-9 

space flights, 468-69 

Speck, Frank G., 36o« 

spiritual rebirth, 67-75 

Stalin, Joseph, 91, 93, 129-31; 
as Czar, 129-30; Hitler and 
Mussolini compared with, 
1 15-17, 124-31; Hitler-Stalin 
pact, 180-81; personal ambi- 
tion, 129-31 



subconscious and fantasy, 42, 

44,45 

suicide: neurosis as watered- 
down version of, 45; tendency 
toward, 144 

Sunday Times (London), xiii, 

443 

super-ego, 290-92 

superior function, 25 

Sury, Kurt von, 80 

Suzuki, D. T., 205 

Swahili language, 35 

swastika, 118 

swearing, 454, 456 

Switzerland: bear as totem, 
77; flag, 421-22; future of, 
421-23; in Jung's waking 
dream, survives disaster, 232, 
233; Protestantism, 217; 
susceptibility to Nazi tech- 
nique, 152-53; in 2nd World 
War, 175, 180-81 

symbolism, study of, 143, 359 

symbolization, Freudian, 278 

symbols: American and Russian, 
red and white, 326-27, 
421-22; definitions of, 216; 
and dreams, 319-20; Gnostic, 
468; phallic, 324 

synchronicity, 182-83, 2 3°, 
314; and dual predestination, 
386-87 

Tantrism, 322, 400 

Tao, 223 

Taos, Jung in, xiv«, 30, 77; 

see also Pueblo Indians 
Taos Valley News, xivn 
Taurus, era of, 412 
Teilhard de Chardin, Pierre, 

467 
telepathy, 312-13, 377 
Temple, Helen, xviii, 234 
theology, Jung's disrespect for, 

387-88 
therapy (psychotherapy), 

415-16; Jung's technique, 



487 



Index 



Index 






318-22; psychoanalysis as, 
255-56; unconscious in, 458 

thinking: bodily center of, 
399-401; with words, 400 

Tibet, mandala in monastery, 
442 

Tilly, Margaret, xvi; contact 
with Jung, 273-75 

Time, 91 

time quantum, 380 

Toynbee, Arnold J., 326 

tranquillizers, 334-35 

transcendent function, 325-26 

transference, 344-46, 363^64; 
reciprocal, 26 

transmigration, 382-83 

trees: in alchemy, 356; symbol- 
ism, 354-58; tree of life, 355; 
world-tree, 354 

tribal institutions and tribal 
rulers, 91-92 

Tribune de Geneve, 141 

Trinity, 188 

Trishagion, 372 

tuberculosis, psychic causes of, 

33i 
Tutankhamen, tomb of, 42-43 

2,000,000-year-old man, see 

Great Old Man 

types, psychological, 341-43. 435 

Ufos, see flying saucers 

Uganda, 32, 35 

ulcer, peptic, 331-32 

unconscious, i6«, 69, 74, 218, 
299-300, 467; absolute knowl- 
edge in, 377; American, 
195-96; collective, see collec- 
tive unconscious; in critical 
phases of life, 456-57; devil 
as, 188-89; in dreams, 319-20, 
346, 458; as female figure, 
139-40; Freud's concept, 269, 
282-84, 339; an d Hitler's 
power in Germany, 118-19; 
Jewish and Aryan compared, 
193-95; J un 8 disagrees with 



Freud on, 283; Jung's con- 
cept, 208, 336-43; Jung's use 
of, in analysis, 39-40; and 
mistakes in speech, 282-83; m 
modern man and predeces- 
sors, 96; old man, see Great 
Old Man; personal, 320-21; 
and reality, mean between, 
29; and religion, 455-56; and 
repression, 283, 323-24; and 
self, 301; in therapy, 319-22; 
in Western civilization, 397 

United States: Jung in (1909), 
n; (1910), 11; (1912), 11, 
434; (Dec. 1924-Jan. 1925), 
xiv, 30-31, 44; (1936), 88; 
(*937). 94; Jung's opinions 
on, 13-24, 30-31, 44, 47-49, 
92, 122-23, x 33> I75-7 6 . x 95- 
96, 202, 222-23, 303, 334-35; 
misdirected lives and mental 
illness in, 47-49; Negro 
influence in, 14, 16, 43, 195; 
poor whites, 122-23; prepara- 
tion for war, 133; white star 
as symbol, 326-27, 421; 
women in, 14, 16, 19-20, 
22-24, 3 2 7 

Uranos, 375 

Uroboros, 151, 176, 452 

U.S.S.R., see Russia 

values and happiness, 263-64 \k 
Vienna: Jung's press conference . n 
in, 38-46; Jung's visits to, 
38a; Kulturbund, xiii, 38, 

4C 47. 57 
Virgil, foretells birth of child 

as savior, 373 
Vocatus atque non vocatus deus 

aderit, 164, 258, 453-54 
volition, 100-5 

war, preparation for, 73-74 
Washington, D.C., St. Eliza- 
beth's Hospital, 434« 
Watts, Alan, 275« 
Weizsacker, Adolf, xi, 59 



488 



Wells, H. G., Christina Alberta's 
Father, 42 

Weltwoche, Die, 149, 353, 406s 

white and red, symbolism, 
326-27, 421-22 

Wickes, Frances G., 168, 170 

will: and decision, 103-4; gana 
concept, 105; philosophic 
concepts of, 207; volition, 
meaning of, 100-5 

Wolff, Helen, 406 

Wolff, Kurt, 406 

Wolff, Toni, xii, 174, 179; hal- 
lucination of Ravenna 
mosaics, 184 

women, 78, 244-48; American, 
14, 16, 19-20, 22-24, 3 2 7; 
animus-anima conflict, 26, 
263-64; beautiful, 248; 
change of life, 456-57; in 
Germany, position of, 300-1; 
in love and marriage, 244-47, 
402-3; not the weaker sex, 
245-46; professional, animus 
of, 26-27; quiet and talkative, 
245-46; stronger than imita- 
tion of male adaptation, 27; 
values of, 263-64; see also 
animus/anima 

word association, see association 

workers and environment, 
202-4 

World War, 1st, 138, 166, 189 



World War, 2nd, 141, 189; 

Germany in, 147-48, 149; 

predicted, 73, 133-34, 436, 

462; Switzerland during, 175, 

180-81 
Wotan, 462-63; German cult of, 

118 
Wundt, Wilhelm, 277 

Yahweh, 188, 226-27, 230-31; 

fear of, 349 
Yggdrasil, 354 
Yoga, 167 
Young, Gordon, xiii; interview 

with Jung, 443-52 
youth: in Germany, 61-62; 

modern, disbelief in parents' 

ideas, 449-50 
Yucatan, cross as symbol, 220 

Zeller, Max, 59 

Zen, 361, 467 

Zentralblatt jiir Psychotherapie, 

197-99 
Zimmer, Heinrich, i82«, 39872 
zodiacal periods, 375, 412-13, 

444 . 
Zofingia Club discussions, 7-8 
Zollner, Friedrich, 9 
zoology, 209 
Zosimos, 18073 
Zurich Psychological Club, 3»; 

Jung's seminars, 52-55 



489